The Lost Princess of Alfheim
by lexiethebug
Summary: When Holly Potter lays on the brink of death from a beating gone too far, she dreams of a different time, in a different world. A world with magic that follows her into her own. But this magic is different from her world's magic, and she must find the answer to the ultimate question before her enemies do: Who is she? (BEING REVAMPED)
1. Chapter 1: The Royal Family

**Disclaimer:** **I am not associated with the owners, creators, or producers of Harry Potter or the Marvel Universe in any way. It'd be great if I was though.**

 **Warning: features mild descriptions of abuse.**

Holly Potter was far from a well-cared for seven year old. In fact, she was the polar opposite. Orphaned at the tender age of one and left with her relatives, the Dursleys, who hated her for reasons she didn't understand. Since she was four she had been forced to cook and clean for them. When she didn't get all of her chores finished in time her uncle would strike her with his belt. She knew it was wrong, even though they made sure to tell her she deserved it for her "freakishness".

Pain was a constant in her life. Whether it came from her back, her stomach, or her aching bones that couldn't grow properly, it was always there. She was small and skinny from malnourishment. Some of her teachers had even commented on how beautiful and fairy like the small redhead was. It made her want to hit them. _How could they not see?,_ she always thought, _How can they not know what the Dursleys do to me?_ She had decided she was sick of their compliments on her slight figure. This led to her current predicament.

A young substitute had been teaching the class today, and she had squealed in a horrid manner before rushing towards her to scoop her up in a hug. Completely unaware of Holly's obvious discomfort, she chattered about how adorable and doll-like she was, how _fragile_ and _fairy like._ It was at this point that the woman had dropped her, shrieking, as all of her hair spontaneously fell out.

Holly hadn't been able to stop her laughter at the horror on the woman's face. Apparently this was enough to ascertain her guilt, and she was quickly dragged to the Headmaster's office behind a livid teacher. The Dursleys were called, and the look on her uncle's face was enough to drive away any remaining joy and replace it with a heavy sense of dread.

She had been suspended for a week when she wouldn't confess to how she did it, in spite of her telling them that _she didn't know._ The Dursleys drove her back to Privet Drive, and her real punishment began.

This time, her uncle didn't hold back. He had done so before, afraid of damaging her so much that it was unexplainable. But she had a week to heal this time. So he threw her down in the front hallway the moment they were back. His belt was off before the door was fully closed, and Holly was whipped and kicked and punched until he was satisfied. The entire time he ranted, "I won't have any of that freakishness in my house, do you hear me?!"

When he was done he opened her cupboard door and kicked her in, ignoring the pained whimpers that spilled from her mouth. Hearing the locks click, she curled up in a ball and laid there. She knew moving would only make it worse. But as a puddle of blood slowly formed under her and it got harder and harder for her to breath, she couldn't help but hope. _Is this it?_ She wondered, _Will I finally be free of this place?_ And as her consciousness faded, she thought for sure the answer was yes.

 _She was hiding behind a tall man, clutching the back of his creamy elven battle robes as they strode down elaborate golden halls. She was so nervous, she wasn't ready to meet the Asgardian Princes, she was way too young, only a hundred years old. What if she messed up? What if she horribly insulted the Allfather? What if she irrevocably destroyed Asgardian and Alfheim relations? Her panic increased as they approached a large pair of golden doors, intricately carved with an image of the World Tree. It was the throne room. This was her last chance to save the future of her world's relationship with the Aesir. She tugged on the man's robes and he paused, looking down to her questioningly. "Father," she whispered, feeling small, "I can't go in there."_

 _A soft smile softened her father's already kind features. He kneeled next to her, gently asking, "And why is that, my princess?"_

 _She bit her lip, but stopped immediately. Her tutors always told her it was a bad habit. "What if I mess up?" Her voice rose slightly as she told him of her inner worries, "What if I offend them?"_

 _A light chuckle escaped her father's large frame. Eyes twinkling with humor he told her, "I am sure you would offend them more by not appearing." Seeing the worry that still lingered in his daughter's eyes, he added, "Do not worry, my little Azalea. The Allfather may be a fierce warrior, but he is very kind. He will not hold any mistakes you may make against you."_

 _Mollified by her father's words, she blew out a breath and tried to ease the tension in her small body. Squaring her shoulders, she nodded to her father and walked proudly beside him into the throne room._

 _Only to hide behind him once again at her first glimpse of the mighty Allfather. He seemed a large and scary being upon his magnificent golden throne. His hair was a light blonde that was beginning to grey, a small beard adorned his chin, and many scars could be seen upon his face and neck. He wore traditional Asgardian armor, as well as a deep purple cape with gold lining. A shining helmet rested by one hand on the throne, while the other hand gripped a large golden staff. If she hadn't been so nervous, she might have commented on the Asgardians obsession with shiny gold things._

 _"Greetings, Allfather."She heard her father speak, but kept her face hidden in the silky folds of his robes, and felt him bend at the waist in a short bow._

 _"Greetings, Freyr." The Allfathers deep, rumbling voice replied, sounding amused, "Who is the shy young maiden hiding behind you?"_

 _She flushed and hurriedly stepped away from her father, dropping into a curtsy. Keeping her gaze firmly on the ground below her, she opened her mouth to greet him, and was horrified to find her voice would not work, quickly snapping it shut. Hearing quiet laughter from more than two people, she risked a quick glance up and saw three others she had not noticed before. The Queen, Frigga, who wore a beautiful blue gown that flowed around her elegant frame. Her jewel-covered hand was raised to her mouth as she laughed, and her eyes crinkled with mirth._

 _Next to her were two young boys who looked to be barely older than her. The Princes. The bright blue-eyed one stood arrogantly, wearing a dark blue tunic and a red cape over his shoulders. He was large, like a small boulder come down from the mountains, but it was all muscle. His blonde hair looked like a maid had tried to comb it back but failed, leaving it a half-done mess on his head. He laughed loudly and without care at her fumbling, unaware of how cruel he seemed to the young elven princess in that moment. At least the others were being subtle with their amusement._

 _Next to him was a slightly younger, dark haired boy. He seemed to be the polar opposite of his brother. His posture was proud but reserved, and his long hair was tied back neatly. He wore a dark grey tunic, a brilliant green cape trailing behind him. His slighter frame made the simple cloth look more elegant. He wasn't laughing. She glanced at his face, curious, only to meet equally curious eyes. Dark, emerald green eyes that looked like they had been plucked straight from a rock. Feeling her face redden in embarrassment, she ducked her head down once again._ Stupid, _she thought,_ you can't just stare at the Asgardian Princes.

 _Her father's ever welcome voice brought her out of her self-deprecating thoughts. "This is my daughter, Azalea. Please, forgive her. This is her first time outside of Alfheim, and she is understandably nervous."_

 _She caught the Allfather's nod out of the corner of her eye, and he spoke again, "Of course, my own sons, Thor and Loki," he gestured to each in turn, "have yet to leave Asgard. I understand she is younger than them?"_

 _"Your youngest is her elder by at least 50 years." Freyr replied._

 _The Allfather made a humming sound, and she shivered, hoping it didn't mean he was displeased. "Thor," he said brusquely to the still laughing prince, "You are being very discourteous. I expected better from you." Thor's chuckles stopped immediately, and he bowed his head, ashamed. The Allfather continued, "Now, I would like to invite you and your daughter to dine with my family while we discuss the happenings on Alfheim. Do you accept?"_

 _Her father bowed his head in consent, "Of course, Allfather."_

 _The Allfather waved his staff free hand as he rose, "No more of that now that we are passed the formalities. You may call me Odin."_

 _Bowing his head again, her father replied, "As you wish Odin." He gestured to her to follow him, and they began to make their way out of the throne room. It was then that several things happened._

 _A flash of white light covered her father from head to toe, and Azalea barely had time to feel a flash of alarm before it disappeared, revealing the changes wrought upon him. His once creamy white robes were now a garish clash of orange and green. The polished, armored parts were rusted and ready to crumble into dust. And, best of all, his platinum blonde hair stood straight up, as if he had been electrocuted._

 _As she took in the state of her father, she was dimly aware of a young boy's sniggering and the booming voice of the Allfather scolding said boy. She couldn't help it. She giggled. And once the first giggle had escaped her, it was like she couldn't stop as all of her nerves were leaving her in a bout of laughter. Soon the rest of the room was silent again, as the occupants stared at the painfully shy girl who was bent over, clutching her stomach as her mirth escaped her. It was contagious, and soon everyone,_ _if they were not laughing with her, wore small smiles. The dark haired boy, Loki, was grinning with a self-satisfied air about him._

 _It was not to last, however. Too soon her laughter ended, and everyone floundered for a moment at how to proceed. Odin turned back to his youngest, an angry look on his face, but was interrupted before he could begin._

" _Thank you, young prince." her father spoke, a smile still on his lips and joy in his eyes._

 _Odin turned from Loki, surprised at the words his ally spoke. Loki, similarly shocked, barely stammered out, "Thank you? You're thanking me? Why? I have ruined your robes." His confusion showed in his features, and it oddly made Azalea want to laugh again, as it reminded her of the similar expression on her father's face just moments ago._

 _Freyr replied earnestly, "My daughter has not had any reason to laugh for the past month, so great were her nerves for this meeting. It was a sound I greatly missed, and you managed to bring it out of her, in the midst of being introduced to the mighty Allfather as well! And so I thank you." He bowed his wild haired head respectfully to the prince. "The ability to bring joy to others is a great gift; hopefully it shall serve you well in the future."_

 _After saying his piece, King Freyr was rushed away to be given a new set of clothes. Loki was also taken away, presumably to be given his punishment (he did pull a prank on visiting royalty, after all), and was soon returned to the room. Azalea joined the Princes in the antechamber while she waited for her father to return. The Allfather and Queen had disappeared, leaving the three children to themselves, not counting the numerous guards around them. It was a bit awkward at first, due to her shyness, but that was quickly rectified when she complimented Loki on his prank. That sparked a brief history of all of his greatest pranks, with Thor adding comments to the ones he had helped with._

 _When that started to get boring, she had asked him how he did it._

" _With magic, of course." Was his reply, not realizing the beast he had just unleashed on himself._

" _Magic?!" she exclaimed excitedly, "You can do magic? Oh, please please please show me, father says I can't learn for another fifty years, he'll barely let me_ near _any of our sorcerers. He's afraid I'll trick them into teaching me. I haven't seen it cast since the disaster on my seventy-fifth birthday, please?" By this point she had grabbed the sleeve of Loki's tunic and was emphasizing each please with a sharp tug. It was all he could do not to fall over from the elven princess' hard pulls. He glared at his brother, who was laughing at his predicament. Finally, Azalea noticed what she was doing and let go of him like she'd been burned. "Oh, sorry." She mumbled, fiddling with her hands. He wouldn't show her anything now._

 _She heard him sigh and missed the considering look he shot her. "Fine," he muttered. Her head whipped up to stare at him hopefully. "I'll show you some little things after dinner, but only if our fathers let us go to do as we please."_

 _Grinning, she swamped him in a hug, "Oh thank you thank you thank you!" she yelled in his ear, making him wince. Gently, he pried her arms off of him, and she quickly released him, "Sorry." She repeated, though she really wasn't very sorry at all. He was going to show her magic!_ _Her grin must have been infectious, as soon Thor was grinning just as big as her and Loki was smiling too. She thought to herself,_ this is the start of a beautiful friendship.

Holly gasped as she woke from the dream, painfully aware of the gaping hole in her heart. What was that? She sat up, rubbing her head to ease the ache that had accompanied it. Was it a dream? _No,_ she thought, _no dream is that detailed._ A memory? Maybe. She'd heard of people who had memories from previous lives. Aunt Petunia always said they were attention-seeking freaks. Maybe that was where her freakishness came from. But no, they couldn't have known if she didn't know. _It must have just been a dream,_ she decided, stretching as much as she could in the cramped space of her cupboard. _A beautiful dr-_ her thoughts froze as she stared down at her body. She could move, without any pain at all. But how? The last thing she remembered was being thrown in here after a beating. There was no way. It was like magic.

She paused, thinking back to her dream. Maybe it _was_ magic. _And maybe,_ a hopeful part of her whispered, _it wasn't just a dream._

When Vernon Dursley opened the cupboard the next day, half-expecting to find a rotting corpse, he was shocked and angry to find Holly Potter sitting there perfectly fine, quietly doodling on a dirty piece of paper with a broken crayon. He had immediately put her to work, and then hurried to inform his wife of what had happened. They both agreed that it had been that foul freakishness, _magic,_ and Vernon was forced to stop taking his anger out on his niece. After all, it hadn't shown up in their home until that day, and so they decided that if they stopped the physical punishment, it would have no reason to show up again. They wouldn't have any of that freakishness in their house.

And so Holly Potter's life improved slightly. Yes, she still had to deal with achy bones, hunger pains, and Dudley's new little gang of friends, but she no longer had to worry about when and where the next lash would come from. And if she attributed this small improvement to that dream and her sudden health, well, she wasn't _wrong._


	2. Chapter 2: A Flaming Thor

The next time it happened, a nine-year old Holly was running from Dudley and his friends after school. It wasn't a new occurrence, and she should've been able to easily escape. Only today, Dudley had a new addition to his gang, Spencer. He was able to keep up with her as she ran, even after the others had given up.

Having gotten used to only running a short while to get away from Dudley, Holly wasn't prepared for her sprint through backyards and alleys to last longer than a few minutes. When she finally stopped to catch her breath in a secluded alley, she was shocked to hear the new boy whoop in triumph when he turned the corner a second later, catching sight of her. Her instincts kicked in, and she fled out of the alley and across the street. Right into a car.

For a moment, she felt like she was flying. But then her body hit the ground with a solid _thump_ , and pain flooded her senses. As her vision darkened, she saw a brilliant red spread before her on the blackened tarmac. The sounds of screams and screeching tires followed her into unconsciousness.

 _Azalea watched in awe as fire danced around Loki's fingertips. "How did you do that?" she asked him, entranced by the flames. They sat in a small library, one of many scattered throughout the Asgardian palace. The Allfather had left them to their own devices after dinner, and so they had secreted themselves away to the seldom used room. Thor had left them, stating that he would rather spar with his fellow warriors. Loki barely noticed his absence, so excited was he to showcase his magical talent to someone other than his mother._

 _Loki smirked, "Magic, of course." Azalea scowled at him, and he quickly acquiesced. "This," he continued, waving his fingers, "Is an illusion. It is the magic I have the most aptitude for, and so is the magic my mother chose to teach me first. There are many other types of magic, but illusionary magic is well known for its difficulty to master, due to the amount of detail needed to create a convincing illusion."_

 _"It looks quite convincing to me." Azalea said, and Loki grinned with pride at her words._

 _"Thank you, I've worked very hard to make it so. However," Quick as a snake, he lashed out and grabbed her wrist, causing her to flinch at the expected fiery pain. When she did not feel the burn of fire, she glanced down to see the flames lapping gently at her skin, which was unaffected. "It still has its flaws, obviously."_

 _Loki's words brought her attention back to him, "You mean you can make people feel sensations as well?" She questioned incredulously, mind whirling with the many ways such a talent could be used._

 _"I cannot, not yet." Loki replied, withdrawing his arm and allowing the illusion to dissipate. "Perhaps one day I will be able to, but touch is the hardest part of illusion to master and intersects with many other types of magic. If I decide to pursue the highest form of illusionary magic, it would still take a lifetime of magical study. There is also the fact that one cannot make another feel something the caster has not already experienced."_

 _Azalea paled at the implications. "I daresay, most would simply conjure a real fire rather than go through the trouble of making an illusionary one." She commented._

 _Loki smirked mischievously at her, "Ah, but most would not see the great many advantages such a skill holds." At her confused look, he explained, "Imagine if you were trapped by a Dark elf, and you were unable to truly harm it. What if you could make it feel the pain of being burned with acid, or of having its tongue ripped out. Such a feeling would likely distract it long enough for you to escape."_

 _Azalea grimaced, "But you would have to feel such a pain yourself first."_

 _"That is true, but true magic always has a cost. In such a case I would think it would be worth it." Loki replied._

 _"What do you mean?" She asked._

 _"You mean you don't know?" Loki exclaimed, surprised. "It is the basic law of magic, the only one that applies to every aspect of it. With the majority of spells, the cost is unnoticeable, but that is not the case for many of the more powerful ones. Those spells often need some form of sacrifice, such as the blood of the caster or the life of a lamb. Have you not noticed the many requirements that must be met if a ritual is to work? Have you not wondered why scepters and staffs must be used for some magic but not for others?" He trailed off, staring at her quizzically._

 _Azalea pouted, crossing her arms over her chest defensively, "I did tell you that I've been banned from magic since my 75_ _th_ _birthday."_

 _"Yes, I'd forgotten about that. Why_ are _you banned from magic? I imagine it must have been a truly spectacular event that merited such a harsh punishment." He questioned curiously._

 _Azalea's eyes flicked about nervously, "It could hardly be considered spectacular. I only tried to replicate a trick one of the sorcerers performed."_

 _"And?" Loki prodded, smirking as he realized he had come upon an embarrassing memory._

 _"And I may have set a few tapestries on fire, along with the banquet table and my father's robes." Azalea admitted reluctantly._

 _For a moment, Loki stared at her in incredulity. Then he broke into hearty laughter. Azalea smiled at his merriment, a little amused herself at the memory. When he had calmed himself a short while later, he said, "It must have been quite a memorable occasion, I almost wish I had been there as well."_

 _"Only almost?" Azalea replied teasingly._

 _Loki smiled, "I would not want to risk getting caught in the crossfire. It would not be fitting for a prince of Asgard to be seen flailing about, alight with flames, at such an important event. The political repercussions would grey my father's head even further."_

 _"Perhaps, but at least it would be a 'memorable occasion'." She parroted._

 _"That, it certainly would." Loki said with a smirk as the seed of an idea was planted in his mind._

The dream faded as Holly became aware of a bright light. She could hear voices all around her, and a strange beeping sound. The familiar smell of antiseptic flooded her nostrils, and she vaguely wondered if she'd fallen asleep in the cleaning supply cupboard. _That's never happened before,_ she mused. _But then why is it bright?_ Deciding to investigate, she tried to get up, only to realize she couldn't move. Trying again, she began to panic as she struggled against her invisible bonds. The beeping sound quickened in tune with her panicked heartbeat, and a blur of voices started yelling over her. A second later something cold was pressed to her face, forcing her to stop struggling. Between one breath and the next, her mind relaxed and she fell back into blackness.

 _She and Loki crouched, hidden, behind one of many large pillars scattered throughout the Asgardian palace. The two were lying in wait for their prey, Thor, who was sparring with his friends as he did every day. And he, once finished, would no doubt traverse the same path back to his rooms as he did every day. They listened attentively until they heard the heavy trod of four pairs of feet. "Are you sure you are ready, Azalea?" Loki whispered to her lowly, concerned._

 _Azalea nodded determinedly, "Of course I am, we've been practicing for nigh on two weeks. If I was not able to do this simple thing, I would just as well give up on magic entirely."_

 _Loki eyed her uncertainly, but relented just as Thor and his three friends came into sight. "Alright then, just as we practiced."_

 _With a grin full of mischief, Azalea closed her eyes and focused inward, as Loki had taught her to do. Reaching into herself, she grasped her inner magic and coaxed a small tendril out of its passive shell. Opening her eyes, she playfully wiggled her fingers, which now had a thin golden thread of magic wrapped around them. A moment later the thread unraveled itself and slithered across the golden floor towards an unsuspecting blonde. She mentally guided it up Thor's boots and onto his bright red cape, where it settled itself into a pattern that vaguely resembled embroidery._

 _Now came the hard part. As the thread stilled, Loki sent out his own magic, and a small flicker of fire appeared at the edge of Thor's cape. Azalea concentrated on the golden thread, trying to ignore the small flame. Loki and she had found that she had an affinity for elemental magic, and particularly for fire, which was the reason for the fuss 25 years ago. Azalea had been ecstatic, and had been practicing her control over her magic since they had discovered her affinity. When Loki told her of his idea for a prank, she had proposed a way to make it more realistic. Loki had been wary initially, for good reason, but let her join him once he had seen the progress she had made. And so they had found a way to provide the heat of flame to their prank, without creating an actual fire._

 _Calling forth her memories, she focused on the ones involving fire. Predictably, the memory of her 75_ _th_ _birthday dominated the others, providing most of the material needed for her spell to work. Focusing on the fiery heat of that day, the uncomfortable feeling of almost being burned, Azalea guided that feeling to her magic, and watched with glee as the golden thread lightly flashed in response. It worked!_

 _The illusionary fire spread, and she focused on making her magic warm enough to be uncomfortable, but not so much that it would injure the prince. A few moments later, Fandrall exclaimed, "Thor! You are on fire!"_

 _The hilarity of what happened next made the punishment the two were sure to receive completely worth it. Thor looked over at Fandral with confusion, before noticing the fire himself. Once he had seen the fire, he registered the odd heat seeping through his clothes, and screamed. It was a high-pitched scream, one that would be more fittingly heard from a defenseless servant girl's throat than the Crown Prince of Asgard's. He grasped his cloak in a panic, and waved it through the air in an attempt to put it out. In response to this, Loki flared the flames, making Thor screech once again. This second scream knocked Fandral, Volstagg, and Hogun out of the trance they seem to have been in, and the three of them fluttered around Thor, all trying to put out the fire in different ways. Fandral was trying to pat the fire out with his gloved hands, while Hogun was yelling at a nearby guard to get some water. Volstagg, true to form, tackled Thor to the ground in an attempt to extinguish the fire with his considerable body mass. It was this, the sight of Thor yelling and flailing beneath his weighty friend, that put them over the edge._

 _The spell dispersed as Azalea and Loki were unable to concentrate on it, as they were too busy rolling on the floor with laughter. Still, it wasn't until the Allfather, Queen Frigga, and several guards came running down the hall that Thor realized the fire was gone, and that he was making a fool of himself. He hastened to shove Volstagg, who was trying to get up himself, off of him, only succeeding in making Volstagg fall on top of him once more. The two tripped and stumbled over each other in their haste to get off of the floor, causing the two mischief makers to fall into another bout of hilarity._

 _Unfortunately, their merriment drew the attention of Odin. He quickly put two and two together, and acted accordingly. Towering over their small frames, his voice boomed throughout the halls of Asgard, "Loki! Why have you so maliciously attacked your brother?!"_

 _The two sobered instantly. "Attacked him? Father, he is unharmed!" Loki exclaimed, "Do you think so little of me that you would assume me capable of truly hurting Thor?" Said Loki, lowering his voice as he spoke. Only his mother and his friend noticed it's shakiness.  
_

 _Queen Frigga stepped forwards, cutting off her husband's next words, "Of course not, Loki. Your father is overreacting, we were both very worried when we were told that out eldest had spontaneously burst into flame! It would seem that our informant had exaggerated the truth of the matter."_ _She glared at a nearby soldier as she continued forward, sweeping Loki into a hug,"_ _Your father did not mean to be so harsh in his words, my darling Loki."_

 _Odin, recognizing the warning in his wife's tone, relented, "Your mother is right, my son. As she always is. However, I expect you to fully explain your actions on this day."_

 _Reassured by his mother, Loki did just that. "Well, first I awoke in my bed, and contemplated whether I should go back to sleep or not. When I'd decided not to, I-"_

 _"Loki." Frigga released him and cut him off with a stern look, but her eyes were sparkling. Loki grinned, admiring the shade of red his father's face had begun to turn to, before he got to the point, "It was Azalea's idea."_

 _Azalea, who had until now been watching the family with confusion, gasped indignantly, "It was not! It was_ your _idea!"_

 _"No, you were the one who told me of what happened on your birthday, and remarked that seeing an Asgardian Prince on fire would be a 'memorable occasion'." Loki explained slowly, as if to a young child._

 _Azalea gaped, then sputtered, "You-You're twisting my words! I only came up with a way to make the fire give off heat!"_

 _"Without which the prank would not have worked anyway." Loki replied, and turned to his father, "So you see, it really is all her fault."_

 _"You-you- Argh!" Azalea yelled wordlessly, and threw herself at Loki, intent on tackling him. Loki smoothly stepped aside, and she fell in a pile next to him._

 _By now everyone was watching the spectacle with amusement. Thor and his friends were grinning at the entertainment. Thor was not offended by his brother's mischief, as he'd long since become used to being the main victim of his many pranks, albeit not such realistic ones, and the other three boys followed Thor's lead. Frigga was smiling fondly at her son's antics, while Odin's posture was annoyed, but that annoyance was being eaten away by reluctant humor at their behavior._

 _Finally, he interrupted the bickering duo, "Regardless of whoever was responsible for the idea of the prank," Odin spoke, eyeing Loki's innocent expression, "You both participated, and so will be punished accordingly." He turned to the young princess, "And while I cannot punish you, young lady, I trust that your father will levy you with a more than suitable punishment." Odin turned and swept away, missing the twin smirks on the duo's faces. He never did find out the particulars of the prank._

When Holly woke up, she was in a white room that she vaguely recognized as a hospital room. Her head swam with confusion, and she took in the many machines she was hooked up to. _Why am I in a hospital?_ she wondered. Then her memories hit her, and her eyes widened. _Oh, I was hit by a car._ She was sitting in stunned shock when a nurse bustled into her room, only to rush back out once she saw Holly's opened eyes. When the doctor rushed in, she was still in shock. It was only when she started to check her eyes that she came out of it with a violent flinch.

She blinked, registering the person in a white lab coat with a grim face who was standing next to her bed, looking over the machines she was hooked up to. "Hello," she greeted her instinctively, her voice airy and confused as she was still focused on having been hit by a car. "Who are you?"

"I'm Doctor Doyle, Ms. Potter. How are you feeling? What do you remember?" The woman asked her. She had a serious face, made even more severe by the tight bun her blonde hair was pulled into. But her eyes were kind, in spite of the harshness of the rest of her features.

It was her eyes that made Holly reply, "I feel pretty good, for someone who was hit by a car."

Her wry humor got a small smile out of the doctor, "Yes, that would be the morphine speaking." The smile evaporated, and her face grew serious once again, "You are very lucky to be alive, Ms. Potter. I want you to know that. This is a second chance for you. A clean slate, if you will."

"Okay?" She said confusedly. She tried to question the woman, but her body suddenly felt heavy, and soon she was nodding off into sleep once more.

It wasn't until later that she discovered what the doctor meant. The surgeons who had worked on her had done their best in fixing the extensive damage done to her body. This had, to their surprise and horror, meant re-opening old wounds that had healed incorrectly, including bones. After surgery, they had reported their suspicions to her doctor, who had run several tests on her while she slept. The results had quite clearly shown the extensive abuse she had suffered at the hands of the Dursleys. Dr. Doyle had handed them over to Scotland Yard instead of the local police, because she didn't trust the local police due to a bad experience she'd had with them previously. Scotland Yard, who were outside of Vernon Dursley's sphere of influence, investigated very thoroughly. They found the cupboard, the old bloodstains, even the belt and shoes Vernon had worn the day he'd almost beaten her to death. Currently, the elder Dursley's were in a cell, waiting for their trial, while Dudley was with his Aunt Marge.

Holly, meanwhile, was being put into a home for special needs kids, such as those who had suffered a considerable trauma. And upon realizing that she would never have to return to the Dursley's, Holly felt something she'd only experienced in her dreams. She felt happy.


	3. Chapter 3: That Bloody Owl

**Author's Note:** It's fairly obvious, but I had to force this chapter out of me, I re-wrote it at least three times. This is my favorite version, so I've decided to post it. Please let me know if there are any errors! I will be re-writing this story once it's finished, but that's a ways off yet so bear with me! Thank you to everyone who's read this story, and extra thanks to those who've commented on it! Feedback is always appreciated. ^.^

P.S. Made a few edits here and there, mostly spelling, but I smoothed out a few spots of dialogue that seemed kinda stiff (to me at least). Next chapter will be up soon!

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Holly stared at the owl perched on her window sill. The blasted thing had woken her up with its insistent tapping. She'd grumbled and let it in, hoping to get some more sleep before Mrs. Freeman took her school shopping. She hadn't even questioned an owl trying to get in her room, assuming it was just another of those odd things that happened around her. But then she saw the letter tied snugly to the feathered creature's leg.

She eyed it, and the bird, and wondered whether getting the letter was worth the risk of being bit or not. _Probably not,_ she figured, _though it is rather odd ._ Her fingers twitched towards the owl, her curiosity overwhelming her common sense. Gently, so she didn't startle the bird, she reached towards its leg and began untying the knot of twine that held the letter there. To her relief, the bird only ruffled it's feathers agitatedly, and she felt like it was annoyed she was taking so long. She ignored the silly thought.

Finally, the knot came undone, and a surprisingly weighty letter fell into her hand. _Is that parchment?_ She wondered incredulously as she felt the coarseness of the letter. Ignoring the bird now, who hooted at her unhappily, she plopped back on her bed as she inspected the letter. It was made of parchment, or at least what she thought parchment was. Either way, it definitely wasn't paper. It was thick, like many sheets were packed tightly within the small envelope. On one side was a wax sealing in the form of four animals, but it was the other side that really drew her attention.

 _Ms. H. Potter_

 _The Second largest Bedroom_

 _4 Willow Brook_

 _Abingdon_

 _Oxfordshire_

Holly frowned down at the address. It was awfully specific. A flash of worry swept through her. What if it was someone who knew about her powers? Someone who'd come to take her away, like the government or something? But she quickly dismissed those thoughts. The government would have sent burly men in suits, not an outdated letter. No, this had to be something else.

With that thought, she ripped open the letter. As she'd thought, four sheets of parchment fell onto her bed. Picking up the first, her eyes widened as she read it.

 _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

 _Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

 _Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

 _Dear Ms. Potter,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

 _Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall,_

 _Deputy Headmistress_

So, not the government. A _school._ A school for _magic._ Holly grinned at the letter. She knew magic was real, of course. It was the only way to explain the many things she could do. Most of them only happened accidentally, like that one time she'd teleported herself on top of the school roof when Dudley and his gang had been chasing her when she was eight. Others though, others she could control. She could make things float, and summon things. Sloppily of course, but she could still do it. And then there was her fire.

Her fire had been an accident, at first, and had taken a while for her to learn how to control. She had decided to try to replicate what she had done in her dream, the recurring one where she and another set a boy on fire without harming him. Holly hadn't really thought anything would come of it. But then she lit her curtains on fire and nearly burnt the house down. Mr and Mrs Freeman still didn't know how she'd done it, but Holly suspected that they thought she was a mutant. It wasn't like she'd be the first mutant child they cared for, and truthfully, she had been tempted to think of herself as one as well. They never pressed the issue, though, because there was never a repeat of the incident, and Holly was grateful for it. If the way America was handling mutation was any indication, then she would have ended up being a test subject for the government if anyone suspected her of being one.

But this letter changed _everything_. She knew for certain now; she wasn't a mutant, she was a witch! And there was a school for witches! Eagerly, she read through the rest of the pages, which were a list of things she needed to get.

 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi? Pewter Cauldrons? Where do they expect me to get these things? The supermarket?_ She scowled at the list. They didn't expect her to just _know_ where this stuff was, did they? She didn't want to attend a school where the staff was so… shortsighted. _Then again,_ she thought, _Maybe I am supposed to know. There has to be a reason for why the Dursleys acted the way they did. And they did always emphasize that magic wasn't real…_

An irritated hoot drew her away from her thoughts and to the bird that still perched on her windowsill. "Oh, I'm supposed to send a reply with you, aren't I?" She said absently, and was shocked when the bird bobbed its head. "You can understand me?" She asked incredulously, receiving another nod. "Then, if I asked you to come back later, would you? I need to discuss this with my guardians. You can go hunt, or something." The bird bobbed its head again, hooted once in farewell, and hopped out of the window.

With that taken care of, she snatched the letters and bolted downstairs. Mrs. Freeman would be making breakfast by now, and Mr. Freeman would be checking the stocks so he could advise his clients as to the best decisions they could make with their money. So both were in the kitchen when she came skidding into the room, nearly knocking over Mrs. Freeman in the process.

"Woah, Holly. Slow down dear, you know the rules about running in the house." Mrs. Freeman said in a lightly scolding tone. Bonnie Freeman was a slight woman who barely reached five feet. It was obvious that she had been beautiful when she was young, with elegant features, and a duo of dark hair and eyes that went wonderfully with her brown skin. Now though, she was a woman who aged well, with lines that showed the happiness she'd felt through her life. She was a kind woman, and Holly was always glad that luck had smiled down at her on the day her guardian was chosen.

"Sorry Mrs. Freeman. Good morning Mrs. Freeman, Mr. Freeman." Holly greeted the pair.

While Mr. Freeman absently returned the greeting, Mrs. Freeman frowned at her, "Good morning, dear. Now how many times do I have to tell you to call me Bonnie?"

Holly grinned, "Sorry Mrs. Freeman." She chirped, rushing on before Mrs. Freeman could start a lecture on names. "Look at this letter, it just came!" She shoved the letter in her hand, nearly bouncing with excitement.

While Mrs. Freeman read the letter, Mr. Freeman was drawn away from his stocks, "Letter? The mail hasn't come yet, Holly." Kenneth Freeman had blue eyes, bright red hair, and a small beard and mustache combo that he refused to shave. He was a tall, stocky man, a full six feet, which made the couples outings somewhat comical, due to the their difference in height. It also made strangers wary of him, but he easily overcame that with his gentle personality and general happiness. It was hard to be afraid of someone who was always smiling.

"I know it hasn't, Mr. Freeman. This letter came by _owl_." She said with a grin.

His eyes widened, "An owl?" He exclaimed.

Holly nodded enthusiastically, "An owl! Bloody thing woke me up; it wouldn't stop tapping at my window."

"Language, dear." Mrs. Freeman admonished absently, "Honey, I think you'd better read this."

"Yes, I think I should," Mr. Freeman replied, abandoning his stocks entirely in favor of taking the letter. He read the letter twice, just to be sure, and set it on the table when he finished, letting out an explosive sigh. "Hogwarts huh?" He said, "Never thought I'd see one of those letters again."

"Again?" Holly questioned. Her initial excitement had faded, and was replaced by her curiosity. Was Mr. Freeman a wizard?

Mr. Freeman glanced at his wife, before explaining to Holly, "I was born to a magical family, but they abandoned me at the orphanage when they found out I was a squib, a person with no magic. I remember an aunt of mine getting a letter exactly like this one. Her name was Molly, I think."

"So it is real?" She asked. "What's magic like? Can you take me to get my school supplies? It didn't say in the letter where to get them, just what I needed. Is that normal? Why wouldn't they send a guide?" The questions came pouring out until Mr. Freeman stopped them with a laugh.

"Calm down Holly. Yes, it's real. Magic is wonderful, but also dangerous. No, I can't take you to get them, and I don't know. But, if you go get that owl, I'm sure we can ask a Professor to guide us there."

Her face fell, "I told the owl to go hunt for a while, and he's probably miles away. I don't know when he'll come back."

"Don't worry about that, he wouldn't have gone far. They should stick around for a day or two for a reply before giving up. If you go outside he'll probably come to you."

She brightened, "Right, I'll go do that. Be right back!" She bolted out the door, the sound of Mrs. Freeman's voice asking her husband about the stocks that day drifting after her.

Line break

The next day found Holly and her guardians waiting patiently in the living room. Mr. Freeman had sent a reply back with the owl, accepting Holly's spot in Hogwarts and asking for someone to guide them to Diagon Alley. It'd been forty years since Mr. Freeman had gone, and he didn't remember how to get there. A little while later the owl returned with a letter apologizing for the mix-up, and that someone should have been sent along; and that they could expect a Mr. Filius Flitwick to arrive at 11 A.M. the next day to officially introduce them to the wizarding world.

So they waited. At precisely 11 A.M. there was a knock on the door. Holly jumped up and ran to the door, eager to meet her first magical person. Throwing it open, she looked up, expecting some sort of wizened old wizard, only to be met with empty air. A light chuckle brought her eyes downwards, and they widened at seeing the short man. _Why, he can't be more than three feet tall!_ She inwardly marveled. _He's even shorter than me!_

Footsteps came from behind her, and she quickly moved out of the way as Mr. Freeman greeted the short man. "Ah, you must be Mr. Flitwick. Please, come in. Forgive Holly's rudeness; she's been a bit high-strung since she got her letter."

Holly pouted as Mr. Flitwick laughed, "Quite understandable, Mr. Freeman, I take it? It's a pleasure to meet you and your daughter."

Mrs. Freeman cut him off before he could continue, "Oh, it seems there's been some kind of mistake. We're Holly's guardians, not her parents," she shook his hand, "I'm Bonnie Freeman."

"A pleasure to meet you as well, Mrs. Freeman. I'm terribly sorry for the misunderstanding. If I may ask, who are her birth parents?"

Holly thought this was an odd question to ask someone you just met, but who knew? Maybe knowing who her parents were was important in magical society for some reason.

"A couple named James and Lily Potter. They died in an explosion when Holly was barely a year old." Mr. Freeman answered.

"James and Lily?" Flitwick repeated, his face pale. "Her parents are James and Lily?" It seemed her thought about parents being important was right. "But that would mean," Flitwick was staring at her now. "Is your full name Holly Rose Potter?"

Holly shifted uncomfortably, "Yes. Were my parents magical then? You seem to know them."

Flitwick stared intensely at her for a minute, and she imagined that she could hear the wheels grinding in his head. Then he smiled softly at her, "Yes, yes I knew them quite well. I taught them. Lily was always a joy to have in class. She was very gifted in Charms, the subject I teach, and she was even going to pursue a mastery in it before- well." He cut himself off, and it was silent for a moment before he spoke up again. "I think we'd all better sit down. It seems I have more than I thought to explain."

The small family shared bewildered glances, but all agreed. It seemed this meeting would be more complicated than a basic introduction to the wizarding world.

They all got settled in the living room, and Professor Flitwick began his explanation. "I suppose the beginning would be the best place to start, but I warn you that this may be hard to hear, Ms. Potter." He warned solemnly, "Ten years ago, there was a dark wizard. He was a terrifyingly powerful man, who wanted to rid the wizarding world of muggle-borns, that is, a magical person born to non-magical parents. Purebloods, who make up the majority of the elite in our society, flocked to and supported him. Some even enslaved themselves to him, becoming Death Eaters. Now, you may wonder what could cause a person to willingly enslave themselves, but this man was very charming. He became a Dark Lord and commanded the majority of Dark witches and wizards, even some creatures. With this power, he waged a war against Light wizards and witches, and was seemingly unstoppable. The Light began to despair. Until the night he attacked the Potters." Dread began to curl in Holly's stomach as the man paused to gather himself. "It was Halloween. No one knows why he decided to go after the Potters that night, only that he did. James and Lily fought well, but they fell to the Killing Curse. He tried to kill you as well. But he couldn't. The Killing Curse he fired at you didn't work, and the magical backlash destroyed him. You disappeared from our world, but that didn't stop people from celebrating you as a hero for defeating the Dark Lord, and for being the only known survivor of the Killing Curse. " Finally, Professor Flitwick finished, leaving the room in silence.

Holly hugged her legs to herself as she tried to understand this new information. _My parents were murdered, and their murderer tried to kill me, but failed, killing himself instead._ She took a calming breath, shoving away the oddly detached feeling that was growing in her chest. _And I'm famous for this. I grew up with the Dursley's, but I'm a famous hero._ She felt the urge to burst into a hysterical fit of giggles. _Is this shock?_ She wondered.

Arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a warm bosom, and she came back to herself, realizing that the adults in the room had been trying to get her attention. "Hmm?" she hummed questioningly, and they exchanged glances.

"I know this is a shock," Professor Flitwick said, and Holly focused on how squeaky the man's voice was. "Perhaps I should return another day-"

"No!" Holly started, snapping out of her numb state. She wasn't going to let this keep her from magic, not even for a day. Since learning of its existence the day before, she'd yearned for it, to be immersed in magic. Like someone who'd been paralyzed learning that they'd be able to walk again. She _needed_ it. "No," she repeated, softer but still determined, "I'm fine, Professor. I just needed a moment to process it is all."

Mrs. Freeman frowned, concerned, "Are you sure, dear? It is quite the shock."

"Yes, Mrs. Freeman." Holly smiled at her reassuringly, a determination in her eyes. "I won't let a little bit of history keep me from the magical world."

She sighed in resignation, and released Holly from her arms, "Then we'd better go before it gets too late, we'll have to get lunch on the way there."

Now grinning, Holly hopped up, ready for her first adventure into the magical world. She would sort through her feelings about this Dark Lord business later. It was time for her re-entry into the magical world.


	4. Chapter 4: Riches and Wands

After a jarring ride on the Knight Bus (apparently it was required for teachers to introduce muggleborn families to at least one form of magical travel), the group arrived outside of a rundown bar. Holly peered up at the dingy sign, "The Leaky Cauldron?" she read skeptically, "Is that where we're going, Professor? It's not very impressive."

"It is indeed Miss Potter! It is that way in case anyone unaware of our world happened to stumble upon it. After all, no one would suspect the entrance to another world to be hidden in a dingy bar!" Professor Flitwick explained happily. Holly nodded in understanding, "That reminds me!" The Professor continued, turning to her guardians, "You must be horribly confused!"

Mrs. Freeman was quick to reassure him, "Don't worry, Mr. Flitwick. My husband explained this all to me before we left; though it still feels odd that I can't see it."

Holly frowned, "What do you mean you can't see it? It's right there."

Mr. Freeman was quick to explain, "It's part of the protections. Muggles, which are non-magical folk, can't see it. Their eyes just slide right past it."

"Then why can you see it?"

"Because I'm a squib, I have a small amount of magic in me. It's just too little to do anything with."

She hummed, her curiosity sated, and Professor Flitwick spoke up. "Now that your questions are answered, it's time to re-introduce you to the magical world!" With that, he walked forwards, a skip in his step.

The small family followed behind, with Mr. Freeman leading Mrs. Freeman into the bar behind Holly. Walking in, Holly wasn't impressed. The inside was just as bad, if not worse than, the outside. It was dingy and dirty, and there were several chairs that looked like the only thing holding them together was magic. The patrons weren't much better. It was rather busy, and most of the people were covered in dirt and soot, for some reason. Reminding herself that it was a front, she silently hoped that the real wizarding world was better.

Professor Flitwick led them through the crowd, using his wand to nudge people out of the way. He did it subtly; most people didn't even notice he'd done it. Passing unhindered, they were led into a surprisingly clean alley that ended in a brick wall a few meters from the back door. They piled into the small space. The door closed, cutting off the loud hum from the bar and leaving them in silence.

With a flourish of his wand, Professor Flitwick's feet left the ground, and he hovered a few feet into the air. Holly's eyes widened at the display, and she heard a faint, "Oh my!" from Mrs. Freeman.

"Now watch closely, Miss Potter." Professor Flitwick said as he tapped his wand on the brick wall, "It's three up, two across, and you tap it three times. Tap any other brick and you won't be able to enter." He rapped his wand on a brick, three sharp taps, and lowered himself to the ground.

Holly watched, wide eyed, as the bricks began to shuffle around. Slowly, an arch formed, and a bright, bustling street was revealed. She stared in awe at the mass of witches and wizards roaming around in colorful robes, the owls swooping through the air, the bright green puffs of smoke coming from a black cauldron in front of a store that sold cauldrons. A hum of voices enveloped her, interrupted only by screeches of laughter. A smile tugged at her lips.

"Welcome," Professor Flitwick said with a grin, "To Diagon Alley. Follow me please."

The family followed close behind him as he stepped into the crowded alley. They weaved through the throng of bodies until finally they reached their destination: a large, marble building that leaned suspiciously to the side. Marble steps led up to an ornate set of doors. They were guarded by two squat figures that could have passed as humans, if not for the bat-like ears and needle sharp noses.

"This is the wizarding bank, Gringotts." Professor Flitwick explained. "It is guarded by goblins, as you can see. They take great pride in their work but are rather surly. Please be careful not to insult one, they don't take it kindly."

"But Professor, we already have our money." Holly said.

"Ah, that's right. I forgot to explain in light of recent events." he realized, "Wizards have their own form of currency. We still use commodity trade, rather than the muggle's fiat standard. The most common form of currency here is three coins: the Galleon, Sickle, and Knut. There are 17 Sickles in a Galleon and 29 Knuts in a Sickle. This is the most accepted form of payment and will be accepted anywhere. However, you can barter with stores if you have something of value to trade. A book on curses could be traded for a section of dragon hide, for example. Unfortunately some will refuse to sell items this way, so it's best to just use wizarding money."

Holly took a moment to absorb the information before asking, "Does Gringotts do currency exchanges as well then?"

Professor Flitwick smiled brightly, "Why yes, they do Miss Potter! However, that will not be necessary. Your parents left you a considerable inheritance, and all you'll need to do is reclaim the Potter vaults."

Her brow furrowed, but she nodded and followed the Professor as he continued up the elegant stairs. He nodded respectfully at the two guards, who sneered in return before they pushed open the large doors. Up close, she could see that words were engraved there, and she read them curiously.

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed_

 _Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

 _For those who take, but do not earn,_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn._

 _So if you seek beneath our floors_

 _A treasure that was never yours,_

 _Thief, you have been warned, beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there_.

She shivered at the foreboding words that were surrounded by images of bloody battles. Vaguely, she remembered another set of ornate doors, gold instead of white that were just as intimidating, if less bloody.

The group entered the bank quietly, unnerved by the message on the door. Their discomfort only worsened by the weighty silence that greeted them inside. The sound of scratching quills and shuffling papers filled the large hall. Lining the walls were desks occupied by goblin bankers, light glinting off of the gems and coins scattered across them. If the severe features of the goblins weren't so intimidating, Holly would have been tempted to laugh at the sight of goblin bankers. But her instincts were telling her to run away from these creatures and the last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to herself by laughing.

Professor Flitwick quickly ushered them towards an open till and addressed the goblin with ease. "Greetings, Bagrod."

"Filius." The goblin sneered, though Holly couldn't tell if that was his normal expression or not. "Escorting another non-magical family, I see." His disdain was clear in his gravelly voice, and Holly wondered who he was offended by, her muggle guardians or her professor?

"I am actually accompanying Miss Potter so that she may reclaim her family vaults."

The goblin raised an eyebrow, "Oh? And do you have any proof that this child is, indeed, Miss Potter?"

"A heritage ritual will be sufficient proof, Bagrod."

Bagrod grinned nastily at her, "Very well, Gordrot will escort you to the Room of Rites, Miss Potter. And only Miss Potter." He added when her guardians tried to follow.

She gulped, but nodded and reluctantly followed Gordrot through a door hidden behind the large desks. A long hallway greeted her, dotted with several plain doors. Her nerves grew as Gordrot led her past them all, until they finally stopped at the third to last door. "Through here." He grunted. Stepping through it, she entered a small circular room. It was empty of everything except a silver bowl set atop a three legged stand on a raised dais.

The door banged shut and she jumped. Whipping around, she realized that Gordrot had left, and she was alone. Her relief at being away from the creature was swiftly chased away as another bang sounded behind her. Once again, she turned to see a different goblin standing opposite her in the room. She could vaguely see the outline of a door behind him that she had missed before.

"Greetings, I am Ringot." The goblin greeted her, and she mentally changed her mind from him to her. Ringot looked just like the other two goblins she had met, though with a little more hair. The only thing that pointed her out as female was her voice. By human standards it would be manly, but where her fellow goblins voices had been gravelly and gruff, hers was a more pleasant rasp. Both still made Holly want to cringe.

"Please, step up to the platform." Ringot said as she approached the bowl herself. After a moment of hesitation, Holly followed. She regretted it instantly as Ringot unsheathed a fancy-looking dagger form her belt. She ordered, "Hold out your hand."

"Why?" She questioned nervously, eyeing the sharp blade.

The goblin frowned, annoyed, "The ritual requires three drops of your blood. Hold out your hand."

Reluctantly, Holly obeyed, squeezing her eyes shut in preparation for the pain of having her hand sliced open. Instead, she felt a slight sting. Opening them, she blinked at the small cut on her finger. "Squeeze out three, and only three, drops." Ringot instructed as wiped off the blade. Tilting her finger, she watched the three drops drips into the bowl and snatched her hand back before another could fall. She stuck the bleeding appendage in her mouth, faintly recognizing the familiar copper taste.

Rhythmic chanting filled the room as Ringot poured a small vial of clear liquid into the bowl and stirred it with the knife. A bright flash of light lit up the bowl, and the liquid vanished. Ringot grunted, seemingly satisfied, and re-cleaned the dagger.

Holly stared at the bowl, confused. "Is that it?" she wondered aloud.

Ringot barely spared her a glance as she rasped out an explanation, "If you were not who you claim to be, the magic would have attacked you and reduced you to ashes."

Holly paled, mind flashing back to the warning on the door. _Note to self, never antagonize a goblin._

"Greetings, Ringot." A voice from behind her made Holly whip around; she was getting awfully sick of being snuck up on.

"Gordrot." Ringot gestured towards her, "The ritual went smoothly. She is the Potter heiress."

Gordrot bowed, "Your services are appreciated, Ringot." Turning to her, he said, "Miss Potter, we shall now return to the others."

Holly watched this with her eyebrows furrowed, and decided to buy a book on goblin culture when she had the chance. The trip back to the main hall was much faster than the first, and she couldn't help the relieved grin that broke out at the sight of her waiting guardians. She had felt for a brief moment that they wouldn't be there when she returned.

After her return, Bagrod handed her a brown pouch and a new set of keys, stating that the old ones had been lost after her parents' deaths. "Your family vault will not be open to you until you turn 17." He warned her, "However, Lord Potter had the foresight to set up a trust vault for you. This is the vault you will be taken to." Another goblin, Griphook, took her and Professor Flitwick down to her vault. Muggles weren't allowed due to the magic's protecting the cart and its passengers not working on non-magicals, and so Mr. Freeman had stayed with his wife.

The next five minutes encompassed the best rollercoaster ride she had ever been on. Her laughter rang through the air as they swiftly descended into the caverns of the bank. The twists and turns turned her head and she swore she saw a dragon at one point, though she couldn't focus on anything for very long. Too soon, the cart stopped. "Vault 687." Griphook declared as they exited. Handing him her key, he opened the vault and stepped aside to wait.

Her jaw dropped as the inside was revealed. Mountains of gold coins were stacked together, easily towering over her. On the two sides were smaller stacks of copper and silver coins. The mix reached to the edge of the vault, nearly overflowing. "This is all mine?" She whispered, awestruck.

Professor Flitwick smiled up at her, "Yes, the Potter family was once among the wealthiest families in our world. Your father and grandfather spent quite a bit towards the war efforts, but you still have a considerable amount of money."

Holly felt her eyes moisten, and she frantically blinked to keep the tears away. All that time at the Dursleys, _nine years_ of her life spent treated like trash, and she had had a massive fortune sitting here all this time? She scowled at the thought. _When I find who put me with them, I swear I'll-_ she stopped herself, surprised at the dark feeling stirring in her chest. _I'll what? Kill them? Make them suffer the way I did?_ Taking a deep breath, she shoved the disturbing thoughts into the back of her mind, determined to deal with them and her feelings later. If she had a breakdown now, she would be sent home. And she didn't want that, not yet. She wanted to learn about this world she was a part of, a world she was born into and never should have left. She couldn't breakdown now.

With a determined air about her, she marched into her vault and stuffed the pouch full of the golden coins, ignoring the smaller ones. She would use exact change when she understood the monetary system a little better. Marching back out, she plastered a grin on her face and aimed it at the professor. "Alright, I'm done. Can we go shopping now?"

It worked like a charm. Professor Flitwick chuckled and nodded, and they returned to the cart. This time she didn't laugh, but the ride did manage to lift her spirits form the dark hole they had fallen into. In the main hall, they re-joined her guardians and left the oppressive atmosphere of the bank.

The next few hours went by in a whirlwind of shopping. They bought her trunk first for convenience. At Professor Flitwick's recommendation, she bought casual robes as well as her school ones so she had something to wear other than her uniform. While her measurements were being taken, she also met a snooty girl named Pansy. The girl had barely let her speak, too busy raving about Slytherin house and how she would die if she got sorted into Hufflepuff. Holly hadn't known what Slytherin or Hufflepuff were, but this girl reminded her of Aunt Marge. She told the girl she didn't think there was anything wrong with Hufflepuff. The girl left her alone after that.

It wasn't until she'd left the store and asked Professor Flitwick about it that she learned about the four Houses. She still didn't think there was anything wrong with Hufflepuff.

After getting everything but her wand, they went to the bookstore. Flourish and Blotts looked small, but inside it was much larger and filled to the brim with books. Holly loved it. She spent two hours exploring the place and by the time they left she had a dozen extra books that hadn't been on the school list. Professor Flitwick had grinned when he'd seen how many extra books she'd bought and commented that she'd get along well with his Ravens.

Finally, there was only one thing left to do. She had to get her wand.

Professor Flitwick led them to a small, unkempt store named Ollivanders. "Best wand-maker in Britain, old Ollivander!" Professor Flitwick chirped cheerfully, "I've had to get a good number of replacements wands over the years, and he's never failed to provide a good one."

A bell chimed quietly as they entered the store, and a muffled thud echoed from the back. Moments later a white haired, wild-eyed old man popped his head out from between two shelves filled with thin boxes. He grinned when he saw them. "Ah! Filius, it's good to see you again! Here for a student, I presume?" his gaze flicked over the family and he froze, eyes landing on her. "Ahhh. You must be Miss Potter. I remember selling your mother and father their first wands as well. Lily's, ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of Willow. Good for charms. James, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand, eleven inches, pliable. Perfect for transfiguration." He paused and peered at her more closely. "Though, I doubt your wand will be much like your parents'." He leaned back and didn't give her a chance to reply, "Which hand is your dominant?"

Holly blinked at the switch, but answered anyway, "My right."

"Hold out your arm. That's it." Ollivander snatched a measuring tape from the counter and took every measurement Holly could've imagined and more. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a powerful magical substance at its core, Miss Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, phoenixes, or dragons are quite the same. And of course, no other wizard's wand will work quite as well as your own."

As he spoke, Ollivander moved to rummage through the shelves and take down boxes, leaving the tape measure to measure between her nostrils.

"That will do." He said, and the tape measure fell to the floor. "Now, Miss Potter, try this one. Rowan and dragon heartstring, twelve and three-fourths inches and slightly springy. Give it a wave." Holly grasped the wand. White sparks sputtered from the tip. She swished it and-

 **BOOM!**

Holly stared at the pristine wand, and at the scorch marks surrounding it.

"No, no, that won't do." Ollivander said weakly, snatching the wand out of her hand.

"Does that happen often?" Mrs. Freeman asked shakily, worry plastered over her features. Mr. Freeman was staring at the black marks surrounding his pseudo daughter. He'd almost forgotten how dangerous magic could be.

Professor Flitwick was quick to reassure her, "Not at all. In fact it's quite rare. It is said to only happen to those who are capable of wielding exceptional magic."

Ollivander handed her another wand and rattled off its characteristics. And so it went, for the next twenty minutes she was handed wands that reacted to her in a myriad of ways. From exploding, to flooding the floor (and their shoes), to doing nothing at all, Holly tried what felt like every wand in the shop.

"I wonder," Ollivander hummed, squinting down at a light brown wand. "Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Holly grasped the holly wand. She prepared herself for another explosion and swished. Nothing happened. Sighing in relief, she set it back on the counter, glad it hadn't reacted horribly. Honestly, she was starting to wonder if a wand was really worth all this trouble.

"Curious," the wand-maker muttered, "I thought for sure," he trailed off as he turned back to his shelves and waded through the boxes littering the floor. One of the wands had reacted by blowing all those similar to it from the shelves. A moment later he returned, carrying a slender, pale grey box. "This wand was made during my youth, while I was searching for the ultimate wand cores." He said slowly, "It was an experiment, and I never expected to sell it, but something tells me it is just the wand for you, Miss Potter." He held it out to her, face serious, "Elder and phoenix feather, 13 ½ inches, slightly springy."

She took it from the wand-maker, gripping it lightly, and swished.

Fire and ice filled her, swirling around each other in an intricate dance. Gasping, Holly was shocked to see a small cloud escape her mouth. The air seemed to whirl around her. A fountain of gold and silver sparks left her wand.

For a moment, an ancient power filled her to the brim. _This is magic,_ she thought wondrously. Then it faded, and she was left grinning at air.

"Marvelous," Ollivander whispered, "Absolutely marvelous."

Everyone silently agreed with him.

"That feather came from a wild phoenix," Ollivander said, "My great-grandfather nearly died to acquire it, and I never expected to see it be mastered. Especially so once I combined it with Elder. You are destined for great things, Miss Potter. Great things indeed."

A little unnerved, Holly paid for the wand and left with her equally uneasy guardians. Why couldn't life ever let her be normal in something? But for Holly Potter, that was too much to hope for.

They travelled back through the Leaky Cauldron and stepped back into the muggle world. It was a shock, going from so much color and life to dull grey buildings and skies. Professor Flitwick waved his wand to summon the knight bus before tuning to her.

"Here is your Hogwarts Express ticket." Professor Flitwick said, handing her a small slip of paper, "It is very important that you do not lose it, otherwise you won't be able to get onto the platform. To get onto the platform, simply go through the barrier between platforms nine and ten. The ticket will allow you to go through." With a bang, the knight bus appeared beside them. Flitwick smiled up at the trio, "It was wonderful meeting you all, Mr and Mrs Freeman, Miss Potter. I look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts."

"Thank you Professor, I look forward to being in your classes." Holly replied. The small man grinned, and they all said their goodbyes before boarding the bus and disappearing.

As they approached her home at warp speed, Holly couldn't keep the smile off of her face. Despite all the trouble that it would likely bring her, she couldn't wait to go to Hogwarts.

* * *

I am so sorry this took so long to upload. On the bright side, it's a bit longer than usual! Now wijesingheamesha asked if I could just summarize the Hogwarts part, and I figured I'd reply to that here so all of you know what to kinda expect for the next few chapters. I will be kinda summarizing the Hogwarts years after the sorting. Once that's done, there will be one chapter per year (except maybe fourth year because tournament). I expect those chapters will also be monstrously long because I'll be covering an _entire year_ in them. But who knows, sometimes I'm a lazy writer so they might get cut short until I bother to go through and revise. So there's your answer dear commentor, and my thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story. Your feedback gives me life! Please continue, and I hope you enjoy the story!


	5. Chapter 5: A Singing Hat?

Holly spent the next month devouring her schoolbooks and preparing for Hogwarts. She said goodbye to the friends she had made in the year she had been with the Freemans, which weren't many. Dudley and his gang hadn't left her with a good impression of other children. It was slightly depressing, but she hoped that she would be able to make more friends at Hogwarts.

Meanwhile Mr. and Mrs. Freeman did their best to prepare her for the school-year. Mr. Freeman told her everything he knew of the wizarding world, including the bad things. Holly was surprised to learn how much bigotry there was in her new world. Muggles, muggle-borns, certain types of magic, and even Hogwarts Houses all had a stereotype that they were forced into. It was actually kind of disturbing, but Holly was determined not to let those stereotypes influence her.

Mrs. Freeman was busy making her Hogwarts attendance legal. Social Security still stopped by occasionally to see how she was, and it wouldn't do if she went missing for ten months. When Mrs. Freeman needed to contact the Professor, Mr. Freeman had to return to Diagon Alley to buy an owl. After that their new snowy owl flew between Mrs. Freeman and Professor Flitwick to make everything official. Luckily, the British government already had a solution. Hogwarts was labeled as a selective, private boarding school, and so the paperwork was sorted out. They named the owl Hedwig.

The first of September came too quickly for the Freemans, and not quick enough for Holly. But soon enough Holly stood in King's Cross, surrounded by the hooting trains.

"Did Professor Flitwick tell you where this platform 9 ¾ was?" Mrs. Freeman asked with a frown on her face. They had arrived at the station at 10 A.M., early enough to find a good seat but late enough to miss a good portion of the morning traffic.

"He said I had to go through the barrier between platforms 9 and 10." Holly replied. They weaved around the small groups of people littered everywhere as they approached the two platforms. There they found four barriers separating the two.

"Did he say which barrier?"

"The third, I guess. It is platform 9 and _three_ quarters."

"This is where we'll say goodbye then."

Mrs. Freeman had been dismayed when she learned that muggles couldn't go through the barrier, and secretly, Holly had been too. It would have been nice to have someone wave her off at the platform. The trio gazed at the barrier for a moment before Mrs. Freeman broke the heavy silence.

"Well, good luck Holly. I hope you have fun and learn lots of new things, and make some new friends. But make sure they're good friends, and don't buy into any of that blood purity non-sense those books talked about. And-"

"Dear, you're rambling." Mr. Freeman interrupted her, and Holly smiled. She hadn't been sure what to think about the Freemans when she'd been placed with them; or any adult really. None had ever helped her before when she'd been with the Dursleys, up until she'd been taken to that hospital. But these two had wormed their way into her heart with their never-ending kindness. She could still remember how terrified she was when she'd burnt her curtains, but they had believed her when she said she didn't know how it happened and simply bought new ones. Since then she'd started to trust them, and could admit, to herself at least, that she was starting to think of them as parents, in an abstract sort of way.

Still smiling, she hugged Mrs. Freeman. "I'll miss you guys." She mumbled into her chest.

Mrs. Freeman squeezed her tightly, "We'll miss you too, dear."

She let go and embraced Mr. Freeman, who hugged her just as tightly. "Remember, if you ever need us, we're just an owl away." He told her.

They separated, and with one last wave, Holly headed towards the barrier. "I'll see you in a few months!" She called back. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and jogged through the wall.

A chaotic mish-mash of people crowded the platform. Owls screeched from their cages while cats wove through the mass of legs. Parents were yelling and crying, hugging annoyed children close to them. Children greeted their friends and talked excitedly about the coming school year, laughing all the while. Overlooking the entire scene was a scarlet steam engine, the Hogwarts Express.

Taking a deep breath, Holly plunged into the mass of bodies, determinedly ignoring the parting families around her. Reaching the train, she slowly tugged her trunk up the stairs and began exploring the cabins. Groups of older years crowded most of them, with a few younger years scattered around looking lost. It was only near the end of the train that she finally found an empty compartment.

She shoved her trunk into a corner and made herself comfortable, pulling out a book to read so she didn't have to watch the happy families on the platform. And so she passed the time reading about the different kind of creatures that inhabited the wizarding world. It was fascinating, and she didn't even look up when the train began to move, or when the door slid open half an hour later.

"Um, can I sit here? Everywhere else is full."

"I don't mind." She answered, flipping to the next page. Hearing him shuffle his trunk around, she glanced up. It was a red-headed boy that vaguely resembled Mr. Freeman. Their faces were different, but the eyes and hair were the same colors. He was struggling to get his trunk into the over-head compartment.

She marked her page and stood, setting her book to the side. "Here, let me help." She said, grabbing one end of the trunk.

The boy flushed, "Uh, no thanks, I can get it myself."

She lifted her end, and the boy followed. "I don't mind, and two people will get it done faster than one."

A minute later the trunk was stashed safely away. The red-faced boy sat down, and Holly went back to her book.

Only to be distracted from it by the boy's voice. "I'm Ron, by the way, Ron Weasley." He held out his hand.

She shifted her book to the other hand and reached out to shake it. "Holly Potter, it's nice to meet you."

Ron's eyes widened comically. "Are you really?" he asked in awe. Holly snatched her hand from his grip, which had tightened uncomfortably. "Is it true then? Do you have it?"

She eyed him warily, "Have what?"

"You know; _the scar._ " He pointed to his forehead.

Holly shifted uncomfortably, "I have _a_ scar."

"Can I see it?" Ron asked, leaning forward excitedly.

She frowned, "No."

He blinked, confused, "Why not?"

Her eyes narrowed, "Because I have no reason to show it to you. It's personal, and none of your business."

"But you're the Girl-Who-Lived!" Ron exclaimed. She stood abruptly, snapping her book with a loud snap. Ron hastily leaned back so he wasn't knocked over. "What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving." She replied, grabbing her trunk. Thank god she hadn't put it overhead like Ron; otherwise this would be much harder. "I'd rather not be in a compartment with someone who only sees the famous Potter, and doesn't listen when I say no." She left the compartment, leaving the gaping young boy behind.

As she wandered the train, Holly wondered if she had over-reacted. Then she decided that, no, she hadn't. She liked her privacy, and she had a feeling that if she didn't make that clear from the start, they'd walk all over her. It had happened before, at her new school after she'd escaped from the Dursleys. Someone she thought had been her friend had only wanted to know the story of the poor, abused, little girl. She didn't want that to happen again.

To her dismay, Holly found that all the other compartments were full, or at least occupied. Luckily, she did find one with only two people in it; a young girl with bushy brown hair and dark skin, and a nervous, pudgy looking boy with dark brown hair. The girl was sitting next to the boy and comforting him.

Knocking lightly, she opened the door and poked her head in. "Excuse me, but do you mind if I sit with you?"

They both looked up, and the girl was quick to smile welcomingly. "Of course! I'm Hermione Granger, and this is Neville Longbottom. He's lost his toad, you see, so he's a bit upset."

"It's nice to meet you both, I'm Holly." She said as she dragged her trunk in. "And don't worry Neville, I'm sure it'll turn up eventually, and you could always ask a prefect to help find him. They probably know a spell for finding pets, with all the animals that are roaming around." She had tripped over a few cats herself on the way here, and without magic she'd bet that half of them would have different owners by the time they reached Hogwarts.

Neville perked up and Hermione exclaimed, "That's a great idea! I can't believe it didn't occur to me. Would you like me to go ask, Neville?"

Neville nodded, and Hermione was gone, throwing a cheerful "Be right back!" over her shoulder as she ran from the compartment. Holly was left staring after her. That girl was like a whirlwind personified.

Looking around the small space, she realized that her trunk wouldn't fit on the floor comfortably with three people in the compartment. Sighing, she grabbed the handled and pulled. She managed to lift it halfway to the over-head compartment before she lost her grip and it fell.

Neville stood from his seat, "H-here, I can h-help you."

"Oh, thank you Neville." She replied, a bit surprised at hearing his voice. It was the first time he'd spoken since she'd entered the compartment. Together they lifted it into the overhanging shelf with ease. They returned to the seats, and Holly sat across from him. An awkward silence filled the space.

They were saved by Hermione bursting back into the compartment, holding out an ugly looking toad triumphantly.

"Trevor!" Neville yelled, snatching the toad from her hands and squishing it to his chest. "Thank you Hermione, Gran would've killed me if I'd lost him."

Hermione smiled happily, taking her spot beside Neville, "Your welcome, the prefect had the perfect spell for it. It was called the summoning charm, but it's a higher level spell and not taught until fifth year. I can't wait to learn it!" Hermione started to stare off into space, stars in her eyes at all the thought of all the spells she would eventually learn.

Holly smiled at the two and pulled out her book. It didn't feel as rude to read now that Hermione was back, but she didn't get the chance.

"Oh, I love _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_!" Hermione cried out when she saw the book, "What do you think of it? I must've read it at least three times, it's so interesting!"

"It is," Holly agreed, "It's my favorite school book by far, I'm actually re-reading it myself."

If anything, that made Hermione even more excited. Her hair seemed to expand and an odd gleam entered her eyes. She looked like a fanatical scholar. "Really? What did you think of-"

And so the trip continued. Holly and Hermione talked about what they thought of their schoolbooks, which they'd both read all of, and Neville added his opinion when something he knew came up. But when they started discussing Herbology, he dominated the conversation. He chattered excitedly about the differences between magical and muggle plants, how some plants had more than one name, and all the magical properties that could be found in dragon dung. It was riveting, how the shy boy was so passionate about the subject. The two girls silently agreed to drag it out for as long as possible. They liked this side of Neville, and neither minded learning more about Herbology. And so they started to get to know each other.

They were so focused on their conversation they didn't notice the sky darkening outside. It wasn't until a five minute warning rang through the train that they realized they were almost at Hogwarts. Holly looked down at her muggle clothes and shooed the other two into the hallway, after Neville helped her get her trunk back down. Neville was raised in the Wizarding World, so hadn't needed to change, and Hermione had changed once she had boarded the train. Holly threw her robes on and joined the others in the hallway just as the train stopped. They managed to be some of the first students off of the train.

"I'm so excited! I wonder what House I'll get into. I hope I'm in Gryffindor, that's the House Headmaster Dumbledore was in." Hermione prattled as they huddled off to a side and slowly followed the flow of students.

"That seems silly," Holly commented, "I'd want to get into a House because it suits me, not because a famous person was a part of it."

Hermione deflated a bit, "I guess that's true. What House do you think you'll be in?"

Holly didn't hesitate to answer, "Ravenclaw, probably. I like books, and I like my privacy, and I like to think I'm a pretty clever person, so I think it's the best fit. What about you Hermione, Neville?"

"I'll likely be in Ravenclaw too, but I'd still like to be in Gryffindor. Chivalry and bravery are more appealing than intelligence and wit."

"I'll probably be in Hufflepuff." Neville said morosely.

"What's wrong with Hufflepuff?" Holly asked, "Loyalty and hard-work are great traits, and so are intelligence and wit. All four Houses have great traits. I wouldn't mind being in any of them."

"I guess that's true." Hermione said and Neville nodded in agreement.

A loud shout interrupted them before they could continue.

"First years! First years follow me! First years!" A giant of a man yelled, towering over the heads of all the students and waving a lantern around. A small crowd had formed around him, and they hurriedly joined. "Ah there ye are." He said when he saw them. "Alrigh', anymore first years?" He shouted one last time. He looked around and apparently decided there wasn't. "Alrigh', first years follow me!"

They slowly started to ramble away from the station and onto a path. The path was steep and led them through the edge of a forest. No one talked, everyone was too busy watching their feet and trying not to break their necks. Neville was planted between Holly and Hermione, and they kept him from falling at least a dozen times.

"Alrigh' everyone, get ready for yer first sight o' Hogwarts. It's just aroun' this corner."

Awestruck gasps filled the air as they turned around the bend. A magnificent castle stood, tall and bright, outlined by the starry night sky. Glimmers of light reflected off of the lake that sat between them and the castle, making the water sparkle a brilliant gold. A row of boats bobbed next to the shore, ready to take them across.

"It's beautiful." Hermione said breathlessly, and they nodded. It was.

"No more'n four to a boat!" The giant yelled, breaking them from their stupor. Holly, Neville, Hermione, and a boy named Terry all piled into one, and moments later they were sailing across the lake.

Holly stared into the dark depths of the water and let her fingers skim across the surface. There was no propeller, so how was it moving forward? Light flashed off of a scaly tail beneath her fingertips, and she smiled.

The boat ride passed in silence. Everyone could feel a weight in the air, and no one wanted to break it by speaking. Magic surrounded them, beckoning them forwards. Hogwarts was welcoming them.

"Everyone duck!"

The spell was broken as everyone hit the floor. A piece of seaweed hanging from the cave entrance brushed across them, and Hermione giggled. It echoed through the cavern.

"Alrigh' everyone, we're here. Watch yer step."

The boats bumped gently against the edge of the shore, and they quickly scrambled out of boats. The giant man led them out of the cave and into a hallway, then up two flights of stairs until they reached an arched, wooden door. He raised a gigantic fist and knocked.

The door swung open, and a tall, stern faced woman in emerald green robes stood there. Her black hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and she looked like a teacher you wouldn't want to cross.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall."

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

The giant man, Hagrid, left and they were escorted into the entrance hall. It was so massive Holly couldn't make out the ceiling. A grand marble staircase led to the upper floors, but they were led away from them and towards a small door. Crowding through it, they found themselves in a small chamber. Hundreds of voices floated through the walls, and Holly guessed that they must be close to where the other students were.

As the first years huddled together, Professor McGonagall began to speak. "Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be like your family. You will have classes with your House, sleep in the House dormitories, and spend free time in your House common room."

Holly frowned, that didn't sound so good for friendships across Houses. It almost sounded like they were being confined to a fourth of the school population. She didn't like it.

"The four Houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the greatest amount of points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." The Professor's eyes fell on Neville's crooked tie, and he shrunk in on himself. "I will return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly."

She left, and Holly turned to see Hermione already helping Neville with his tie. "You know Neville," Holly said, "I bet there's a spell for that too."

"Even if there was, I wouldn't be able to cast it." Neville sulked, "I'm rubbish at magic."

"Nonsense Neville," Hermione reassured him, "We haven't even learned anything yet, there's no way for you to know that." Holly nodded.

A snobby voice cut into their conversation. "People were saying on the train that Holly Potter has come to Hogwarts. Is it you?"

Holly turned to see a young boy with platinum blonde hair and pointy features. She ignored the Hermione's gasp and Neville's wide eyes.

"Perhaps," she replied. "And you are?"

The boy smiled in a way he probably thought was charming, "My name is Malfoy," he said, taking her hand, "Draco Malfoy." He brushed his lips across her knuckles, and she fought the urge to rip her hand from him. Mr. Freeman had told her that powerful old wizarding families had stuck to mannerisms that were outdated in the muggle world, and uncommon in the wizarding one. Instead she gently pulled it free, reluctant to offend someone so influential on her first day.

"It's nice to meet you, Draco." She replied.

The red-headed boy from the train stepped between them. "Get away from her Malfoy. She's not interested in a slimy Slytherin like you."

Malfoy sneered at him. "You must be a Weasley, with your trademark red hair and hand-me-down robes." He turned back to her, "You'll soon find some wizarding families are better than others, Miss Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort." Here he eyed Weasley, and held his hand out to her, "I can help you there."

She didn't take it. Her eyes blazed with fury at the redhead still standing in front of her. That red-headed imbecile thought he could dictate her life, and she wouldn't stand for it. Old lessons on politics and manners flooded her head, and she didn't bother to wonder where they came from.

She stood straight and lifted her chin, trying her best to look authoritative. "If you are referring to Weasley, I have no connection with him. He has no right to say such things for me. I am perfectly capable of telling who the wrong sort are for myself," she said sharply. Ron's face flushed, and Draco's became tinged with a light pink. She softened her voice slightly, "but I thank you for the offer."

Draco's eyes flicked between them, trying to assess the situation as well as an eleven year old could. "I see," he said slowly, "In that case, the offer still stands. If you need help with something, feel free to come to me."

"I offer the same to you," she replied. Draco smiled and walked away, melting into the crowd with two large boys at each side.

Ron gaped at her, "But-but, you can't go making friends with a slimy Slytherin! You're the Girl-Who-Lived!"

She restrained the urge to hit him, and snapped, "What I do and who I make friends with are none of your concern, Weasley." She spat the name, and he flinched. "I don't stand by those stupid House prejudices, and I refuse to let them separate me from perfectly good people. Slytherins are not slimy, Hufflepuffs are not useless, Gryffindors are not reckless fools, and Ravenclaws are not snobby bookworms. And I will not associate with anyone who thinks so. Which includes you." She snarled and whirled around, stalking away. Her magic thrashed around her, making her robe billow ominously behind her.

She managed to calm down a few moments later. _What was that?_ She wondered. _Where did it come from?_ Returning to Hermione and Neville, she brushed the thoughts away. She'd deal with them later.

"Are you r-really Holly Potter?" Neville asked her once she'd joined them.

She sighed, "Yes."

"Why didn't you tell us you're Holly Potter?" Hermione's eyes sparkled in excitement, "You're famous! I've read all about you."

Neville nodded and added, "And I've grown up hearing stories about you."

Holly sighed, and ignored the heavy feeling that was spreading through her body. One day, and she was already tired of this celebrity nonsense. "That's why." She said. "I wanted you guys to know me, Holly, and not Holly Potter. Do you know why I came to your compartment?" They shook their heads, "It's because that red-headed idiot came into mine at the start of the train ride. He was nice at first, but then he heard my name and started prying into things that were none of his business. So I left. I actually felt a little guilty for reacting so strongly to him, but even now he's acting like he has some sort of right over my life. I didn't want that to happen again. And I can guarantee you that whatever stories or books you read about me were wrong. No one knows what my life has been like up 'til now."

The two exchanged glances, and Neville spoke first, "I understand that, I th-think. I wouldn't want people acting l-like that around me either. I'm sorry."

"I am too," Hermione said quietly, "Can we still be friends?"

Holly grinned, "Of course we can, if you guys promise not to be weird about me being famous."

"Promise." "I promise." They chorused.

They all smiled, and then someone screamed.

Whipping around, they saw a dozen figures floating through the room. "Ghosts!" Hermione crowed joyously, and they were. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided around without a glance to the first years, and seemed to be arguing.

"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance-"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name you know, he's not even really a ghost- I say, what are you all doing here?" A ghost in tights and ruffles asked, finally noticing them.

"New students!" the Friar exclaimed, "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir." Hermione answered him.

"Ah! So polite! Well I hope I see you in Hufflepuff. It was my old House, you know."

"Move along now," a sharp voice said. The ghosts scattered, leaving Professor McGonagall. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to begin. Form a line, and follow me."

They all shuffled dutifully behind her and through a pair of double doors into a magnificent Great Hall. Thousands of lit candles floated over four long tables packed with students. Another long table was at the front of the Hall, where the teachers sat. Upon them all was glittering gold plates and goblets. But what really caught her attention was the ceiling. In fact, it was hard to believe there was a ceiling at all.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_." Hermione whispered.

"It's magnificent." Holly whispered. She stared up at it, and for a moment it changed into a myriad of colors, all intertwined in complex patterns. She blinked and it was gone. "Absolutely magnificent."

A tug on her arm brought her back to the present. Professor McGonagall had set a stool in front of them, and a pointed wizard's hat sat atop it. It was dirty and patched, and looked like it had lice. She hoped she didn't have to put it on.

Everyone stared at the hat, and it twitched. Then a rip near the brim opened like a mouth, and it sang.

 _Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

 _But don't judge on what you see,_

 _I'll eat myself if you can find_

 _A smarter hat than me._

 _You can keep your bowler's black,_

 _Your top hats sleek and tall,_

 _For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat,_

 _The one to rule them all._

 _There's nothing hidden in your head_

 _The Sorting Hat can't see,_

 _So try me on and I will tell you_

 _Where you ought to be._

 _You might belong in Gryffindor,_

 _Where dwell the brave of heart,_

 _Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

 _Set Gryffindor's apart;_

 _You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

 _Where they are just and loyal,_

 _Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

 _And unafraid of toil;_

 _Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

 _if you've a ready mind,_

 _Where those of wit and learning,_

 _Will always find their kind;_

 _Or perhaps in Slytherin_

 _You'll make your real friends,_

 _Those cunning folks use any means_

 _To achieve their ends._

 _So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

 _And don't get in a flap!_

 _You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

 _For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

Holly stared blankly at the hat as the hall burst into applause. Only one thought was in her mind. _What?_

Professor McGonagall unrolled a long roll of parchment and called out, "Abbot, Hannah!"

A blonde girl in pigtails stumbled up to the stool, put on the hat, and sat down. A moment later it yelled, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The table on the right burst into applause, and so it went. Names were called, and Holly tried to remember their names and faces, it might come in handy later.

Soon they heard, "Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione nearly ran past them, eager to see which House she'd be sorted into. She perched on the stool and shoved the hat on her head. Seconds ticked slowly by, then a minute. Hermione's face was scrunched up. "I bet she's arguing with the hat." Holly whispered to Neville, and managed to get a smile out of the nervous boy.

Finally, its brim opened, "RAVENCLAW!"

The Ravenclaw table burst into applause, and Hermione slouched off the stool, pouting. Looks like she lost the argument, but she still waved at them as she passed.

A while later Professor McGonagall called, "Longbottom, Neville!"

She gave his shoulder a squeeze as he passed her. Pale and shaking, he walked up the steps to the hat, and slipped it on. Unlike Hermione, it was only there for a few seconds before it yelled, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Neville hopped off the chair, grinning in relief and began his trek to the applauding table. He waved at her, and she grinned back, pointing to her head. He felt his head and flushed when he felt the Sorting Hat, and ran back to the stool to return it. Laughter followed him, but she managed to catch his eye and give him a thumbs up in what she hoped was a reassuring way. He brightened a bit, so it must have been.

And so the Sorting went. Draco Malfoy was quickly Sorted into Slytherin, and she clapped politely with everyone else. A few minutes later, and she heard her name.

"Potter, Holly!"

The Hall went silent, and she could feel eyes boring into her as she approached the stool. Nerves made her go slowly, and she stood stiffly, back straight.

"Holly Potter?" Someone whispered.

" _The_ Holly Potter?"

She ignored the whispers and sat on the stool, reluctantly dropping the hat on her head a second later.

A deep voice chuckled in her ear. "Do not worry, dear child. I have no lice." It hummed thoughtfully, "Difficult, very difficult. Plenty of courage I see, and oh, what a wonderful mind. There's talent, oh yes, and a nice thirst to prove yourself, but where to- oh. Oh my, that _is_ interesting." For a moment, Holly felt like something had shifted in her mind. "Oh my dear child," the hat whispered, "My dear, poor child. I know exactly which House will suit you best, even if it may not seem so now."

 _"Well?"_ she thought at the hat. " _What is it? And what do you mean?"_

"My dear child," the hat murmured, "I expect a great many things will confuse you in the years to come, as a few already have. But you will learn what these things are in time, and I will put you in the House best suited to prepare you for those things. I hope you remember that, in the years to come."

 _"Wha-"_

"SLYTHERIN!"

The hat was pulled from her head, and she blinked at the bright light assaulting her eyes. How long had she sat there? Looking around, she saw the Hall was staring in silent shock. Sighing heavily, she hopped off the stool. That seemed to break them from their stupor, as Slytherin broke into applause, the loudest of the night, and whispers spread through the other tables. Walking towards the Slytherin table, she waved at Hermione and Neville. Hermione waved back enthusiastically, and Neville smiled weakly. Turning her eyes to her table, she found Draco Malfoy grinning at her and gesturing to an empty seat next to him. Seeing no reason not to, she sat beside him.

The rest of the Sorting passed quickly, the snooty girl from the robes shop, Pansy Parkinson, was Sorted into Slytherin, and spent the night glaring at her. Blaise Zabini was Sorted into Slytherin too, and he sat next to her. The food appeared after an odd welcome speech from the Headmaster, and Blaise started a friendly conversation with her, which Draco joined. Daphne Greengrass and Theodore Nott, other first year Slytherins, pitched in once in a while too, and Holly happily realized that she was enjoying herself. None of the other first years were treating her like a celebrity, and were all talking to her without prying into her life. With the exception of Parkinson, she liked her Housemates, and so far liked Slytherin.

In the middle of an oddly detailed explanation Blaise was giving about the effects of various magical poisons, Pansy screamed. A head was poking out of her plate, and soon a body followed it. The ghost floated silently out of the plate, frowning at the girl. He was a horrible looking ghost, with blank eyes, a gaunt face, and robes covered in silver blood. Gliding to the side, he sat in the empty seat next to Pansy, who didn't look happy with the arrangement.

Holly decided to break the silence that had fallen over their part of the table. "Excuse me, sir, but would you mind telling us your name?"

The others stared at her in horror, and those blank eyes shifted to her. She regretted speaking now; those eyes were too familiar to her. She'd seen them too many times when she was still with the Dursleys, when all she had wanted was for her suffering to end. And even after, when she'd woken from nightmares and couldn't convince herself that she was free from them, and would never have to go back.

"I am the Bloody Baron," the ghost rasped, "I am the House Ghost of Slytherin."

Holly swallowed, "It's nice to meet you, sir."

Something flashed in those blank eyes, "Likewise, little elf."

Elf? Her brow scrunched in confusion, and she looked towards Blaise, " _Elf?"_ she silently mouthed towards him, but he shook his head, looking as confused as she was.

The rest of the meal passed in silence, broken only when Dumbledore announced that the forest outside was forbidden, and that they'd die horribly if they went into the third-floor corridor. Holly snorted, _sounds like fun_ , she thought sarcastically. Then they were taken from the hall, and down towards the dungeons. To their horror, the Baron followed them, sticking close to Holly and making the chilly dungeons even colder.

Two prefects, who introduced themselves as Jake Flinton and Gemma Farley, pointed out landmarks they could memorize as they passed. They warned them not to go exploring on their own, as you could actually get lost and die, like one kid had in 1781 way back before someone invented the Find Me spell. The prefects told them that they would be escorted the first two weeks to breakfast, so they had a chance to memorize the route before facing down death. After a few twists and turns, they stopped in front of a section of wall sat between two torches.

"This is the entrance to the Slytherin common room." Farley started, "The only way to tell is by the torches, which you'll notice are closer together than the others."

"To get in you'll need the password." Flinton continued, "It changes every fortnight, and will be posted on the notice board in the common room. This year's first password is ' _magnuficentia'_ which is Latin for pride, among other things."

As he spoke, the stone wall silently began to fold away. It reminded Holly of the entrance to Diagon Alley. Flinton stepped through first, and they followed. With wide eyes, they looked around the common room.

It was dungeon-like in the sense that it was dark and the ceilings were low, but that was where the resemblance ended. A fire blazed beneath an elaborate carving of a serpent, and a circle of leather seats surrounded it. Round, greenish lamps lit the small tables that were scattered around the edges of the room, giving the room a soft glow. Dark windows opened into the lake, and allowed a soothing swishing noise to echo through the room. Everything was decorated in Slytherin green and silver.

Holly loved it. The atmosphere was a little cold, but she expected that that would change when it was filled with people. She couldn't wait to see her dorm room.

"Girls dorms are to the right, boys to the left. First years are on the first floor, second years on the second, and so on." Farley said, gesturing to two small corridors on the side of the room. "There are two people per dorm, and you have already been assigned a roommate. Your names will be engraved on the door of your dorm. Since there is an odd number of boys and girls this year, two of you will not have to share a dorm. Do not abuse this privilege. If there are problems with the arrangement, you can take it up with our Head of House, Professor Snape."

"There will be a House meeting tomorrow morning, where Professor Snape will inform you of what is expected of a Slytherin. Don't be late." Flinton finished, and the two prefects left, arguing about future hall patrols.

The first years were left huddled together in front of the entrance. Daphne Greengrass stepped away first, followed by Tracey Davis.

"Where are you going?" Millicent Bulstrode called after them. Holly hadn't spoken to her yet, but she didn't seem like the brightest girl.

"To bed. I don't know about you, but I'd rather not sleep in the common room." Daphne replied, not pausing in her path to the dorms.

It was then that Holly noticed how tired she was. The feast had been draining, though delicious, and so had the train ride here. It had been a long day, and she was dead on her feet.

Yawning, she followed after the two girls, and soon everyone had followed their example. Walking through the corridor, she noticed a stairway leading up to the upper year dorms. On the first floor were five rooms, but only three had names engraved on them.

Passing by them, the first door partnered Millicent Bullstrode and Tracey Davis together, and the other partnered Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson. The last had only her name engraved on it.

Smiling happily, she entered her room, glad that she got one to herself. It would have been nice to have a roommate that she could become friends with, but this way she had privacy and extra space. She could make friends other ways.

At the sight of the comfy looking four-poster bed along the wall, Holly barely made it into her pajamas before climbing into it. She fell asleep quickly, a smile on her face and with high hopes for tomorrow on her mind.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** What is this? Two chapters in one month? Impossible!

Well my dear readers, it is, in fact, possible. Don't worry, I'm as surprised as you probably are. Or not. Eh.

I actually planned for Holly to go to Ravenclaw, but changed my mind last minute. So it surprised me too. And before anyone starts hating on me for making Ron an ignorant git, I always have gotten a fan-boy vibe from canon Ron, and not the good kind either. But don't worry, I plan to redeem him in the future. Whether that plan will actually pan out or not remains to be seen, but the sentiment is there at least.

As always, thank you for commenting and I hope you enjoy the story! ^.^


	6. Chapter 6: Wicked Waters

First year was going pretty well for Holly Potter. Despite being sorted into the house that should have hated her according to the stereotypes, she managed to make friends with two of her year-mates, Draco and Blaise, and was friendly with all the others. Hermione, Neville, and Holly managed to stay friends as well, after a big clash between Draco and Hermione, and a subsequent rant from Draco about how his father told him all muggle-borns were lazy and unmotivated. Hermione promptly squashed that belief by pointing out she was the top of all their classes. They had since settled into tolerating each other most of the time, and arguing the rest.

Holly wasn't the best in her class, but with her friends' help, she managed to stay near the top quarter. Luckily, they were all good at different things and could help the rest out if needed. So they met up, helped each other with homework, played Gobstones, and avoided the idiots who still thought Slytherins were evil and needed to be taught a lesson. Generally, Holly kept her head down and was a good student.

Because of this, as Holly stared into glaring, crimson eyes; she wondered how she had gotten herself into this situation. The Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor had the Dark Lord living on the back of his head, and was after the Philosopher's Stone, one of the few things that would bring him back to life. And she just so happened to be the only thing standing between him and the Stone. The Stone she had in her pocket. If she hadn't been ready to flee in terror, it would almost be funny.

"Holly Potter," It hissed. "Do you see what I have become? Mere shadow and vapor… I have form only when I can share another's body… but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds… but once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own… I will no longer have to live as a shade of my former self… Now, why don't you give me that Stone?"

And now he knew she had the Stone. The feeling returned to her legs, and she nearly stumbled backwards. She managed to stop herself from running, but it was a close thing. Instead she forced herself to think. If she turned her back now, it would only take a simple spell for him to stop her. Then he would have the Stone, and Lord Voldemort would return to the living. She couldn't fight him. He was stronger than she was, and more experienced. She wouldn't last a minute. Which left only one option. Distraction.

Swallowing her fear, she took one step forward. Only one, but Voldemort's face still lit up with glee. "Why should I?" she questioned him, lifting her head high. "What's in it for me? I have no doubt that you'll kill me the moment you're able to."

"I see now…" he hissed, "You truly belong in the House of my ancestors… little Slytherin… I had my doubts…" He trailed off, and a dark smile spread across his face, "Why would I kill you… when you could be such a valuable ally..?"

Holly scoffed at him, and forced her legs closer to him. "Why would I ally myself with the murderer of my parents? You sentenced me to nine years of Hell living with my relatives. Do you expect me to forget that?" As she spoke, anger began to well up inside of her. _This_ was the man that had led to her living with the Dursleys. Her hands shook as she clenched her wand in one pocket, and the Stone in the other.

"Of course not…" His sibilant voice spread throughout the chamber, "I can bring them back… With the Stone, I can bring them back to life… You could see your parents once again, Potter."

Hope warred with her anger, but she forced it down. "No one can bring back the dead." She said coldly.

"Do you truly believe that…. when I am standing here in front of you..?"

"But you never really died that night, did you?" His eyes narrowed angrily at her words, but she continued, "You said it yourself, you never died. You became a shade of yourself. Like a ghost, but more… present. Being a Dark Lord, you probably made preparation to make sure that you wouldn't die, even if you're body was destroyed."

"Clever child." He hissed, "Too clever. I will give you one last chance… to give me the Stone."

Fear ran through her even as she stood tall. Bracing herself, she said firmly, "I will never give you the Stone."

"Then you will _die!_ " Quirrell turned as the last word left his Lord's tongue, and he sprang at her. She lifted her wand and shouted the tripping jinx, but it missed. Stumbling backwards, she fired off every spell she could think of, hoping to hold him back long enough for help to arrive. But Quirrell dodged or blocked every one of her spells, and she knew she was losing the battle. Voldemort's voice echoed through the room, " _You will die a pointless death… just like your parents."_

She tripped and fell roughly onto the stairs. Quirrell stood above her. He raised his wand, ready to perform the death curse. _Not like this,_ she thought helplessly, _I cannot die like this._ The feelings she'd been holding back flooded her veins. Fear, anger, and hate all swirled inside her as she stared at the glowing tip of Quirrell's wand. She felt something shift. _I will not die like this!_

Magic, her magic, rose around them like a mist, and threw Quirrell across the room. He crashed head-first into the mirror, and the tinkling of broken glass nearly drowned out the heavy thud of his body falling to the floor.

Suddenly exhausted, Holly dragged herself up and towards her Professor. A dark red liquid was spreading from where he lay, and she instantly recognized the blood. The glass crunched as she walked over it, and stood above Quirrell's body. _I killed my Professor._ She thought, staring in shock at the man's deathly pale face. A horrid stench began to fill the room, but she didn't notice. _I killed him._

Hurried footsteps neared her, but she didn't look away. "Merlin, Albus!" A shocked voice exclaimed. Holly recognized it as Professor McGonagall's. Someone shushed her, and the crackle of crushed glass heralded someone's approach.

"Holly?" An elderly voice gently called out to her. "Can you look towards me, Holly?"

Holly turned her head, and found the concerned eyes of the Headmaster boring into her. Behind him stood Professor's McGonagall and Snape, who watched the scene in front of them. "I-" she choked on the words leaving her lips, "I killed him, Professor." Horror forced its way through her shock, "I _killed him._ " Distantly, she heard someone screaming.

A dark cloud forced its way out of Quirrell's body and lurched towards her. The face of Voldemort appeared inside of it, screaming. It flew through her, and Holly screamed with it as her mind was torn apart. The shocked faces of her professors were the last thing she saw before the world went black.

 _Azalea laughed as she ran down the gilded hallways of the Elven palace. When her tutor had let slip that Loki and Thor were visiting Alfheim for the day, she decided to skip out on her lessons at the first opportunity. It just so happened that her opportunity came in the form of a miniature whirlwind tearing through the classroom while her tutor scolded her for forgetting how to greet a royal official from Nidavelir. She would swear it was an accident, if her father asked. After all, she could not help being frustrated by the lengthy greetings used by the Dwarves._

 _"Azalea!" A voice called out behind her._

 _Whirling around, she grinned at the person that greeted her. "Hilda! Did you escape as well?"_

 _Hilda grinned back, "Not the way you did, I'm sure. Brenna sent Professor Brynja to the Healers. She was experimenting with different weapons again."_

 _They giggled together at Professor Brynja's misfortune. Hilda was the daughter of a famous warrior, Asger, who had once been the second-in-command to Azalea's father's troops. Their father's had been good friends, and her father had promised to take care of Asger's daughter when he had fallen in battle. As such, the two girl's had grown up together and been nearly inseparable. That had changed, however, when both girl's had started seriously training for their chosen fields. Azalea had chosen to study magic, while Hilda pursued the life of a warrior, wanting to live up to her father's legacy. Despite this, they still took every opportunity available to enjoy each other's company, and to keep the other informed of their lives. This included Azalea listening to Hilda's daily woes concerning Professor Brynja._

 _None of the girls liked their Weapons and Defense professor, especially Hilda. According to her, the woman did everything she could to sabotage their training. It wasn't true, of course. Brynja was a competent teacher, just not as skilled as their previous one, who had died in an unfortunate run-in with a Midgardian troll._

 _"What of you, Azalea? What is so important that you would ditch your lessons?" Hilda asked her, knowing that Azalea never skipped without a good reason._

 _Azalea grinned excitedly at the reminder and told her, "Thor and Loki have come to visit with their father today."_

 _"And there's no way you would miss that, of course." Hilda said, nodding to herself as they turned to continue down the corridor._

 _Azalea blushed, but didn't deny it. "They are my best friends, second only to you, and I haven't seen them in months! Not since my last birthday." She sulked. Her birthday had been nearly ten months ago, and she'd been itching to show Loki what she'd learned since he'd seen her last._

 _"You'll see them at your next one," Hilda said, bumping their shoulders together. She smirked, "And I'm sure it will be just as chaotic as your last."_

 _Azalea groaned and covered her face in embarrassment, "Don't remind me! I would bet that disaster is why they haven't been able to visit me, nor I them, these last few months!"_

 _"My, my," An amused voice interrupted, "The heir to the throne of Alfheim is making bets? I must have been a worse influence than I thought."_

 _Azalea's face lit up as she caught sight of the princes approaching them, "Loki! Thor!" she cried out joyfully. A moment later, the two brothers were tackled to the floor by the waifish princess._

 _Hilda smiled down at them, "Hello boys." She greeted them, getting muffled hellos in return. "And I wouldn't be so sure Loki. I'm a pretty terrible influence myself."_

 _Thor chuckled and shifted out from under her, leaving Loki trapped beneath her. "We were just on our way to visit you both. Your father told us you would still be in your lessons." He said, aiming a raised eyebrow at them._

 _Hilda waved dismissively, "There was an accident. Brynja was sent to the Healers." Thor nodded in acceptance, such things happened often enough. He turned his eyes to Azalea._

 _She looked up at him innocently, "Professor Corey realized how disorganized his paperwork was, and let me go early."_

 _Thor gave her a look that said he knew she was lying, but didn't really care. Beneath her, Loki grunted, "Are you going to sit on me all day? You're rumpling up my cloak. It's going to have wrinkles now."_

 _Azalea's eyes twinkled with mischief as she said seriously, "Maybe I should. It would serve you right for being such a terrible influence." Then she blinked in confusion, leaning closer to look at the small stumps protruding from Loki's head. "Loki, why do you have horns?" she asked slowly, still staring at the golden nubs._

 _Scowling, Loki shoved her off of him and stood, dusting himself off. "They're not horns," he said sourly, "They're physical manifestations of my skills in magic, and will grow as they do." Then he smirked, "You'll have something similar, soon enough."_

 _Her hands flew to her hair in horror, "I can't have horns! My hair is already hard enough to tame in the mornings! Imagine having to brush it with horns!"_

 _"I don't have to." Loki said wryly, gesturing to his own hair. It was long enough to be pulled into a ponytail._

 _"Makes me glad I chose to be a warrior," Hilda said with a snort. Thor nodded in agreement._

 _Azalea stuck her tongue out at them and they all laughed._

The scene faded, and Holly found herself in a black space. She was floating, or maybe she was flying? There was no ground, or sky, or anything that she could see. "Hello?" She called out, but the void swallowed the sound. Nerves made her shiver, and she absently rubbed her arms. She craned her neck back, trying desperately to see something, only to find herself spinning slowly backwards. "Wha-" she waved her arms around her in an attempt to right herself, and was sent flying through the blackness. Flailing around, she didn't notice the speck of light that had appeared until it swallowed her.

 _"Are you sure this is alright?" Azalea asked, looking at the small ship they were meant to fly. It hovered above a large mass of water, and the Bi-Frost could be seen in the distance._

 _"Of course it is," Thor assured her. "Nothing in Asgard is forbidden to the Crown Prince."_

 _"Except for the kitchens prior to mid-day," Loki added teasingly. "All of Asgard knows that we would be left without a single pastry in the palace, otherwise."_

 _"You would be left without a palace, as well." Azalea added, smirking. Thor's love of sweet breakfast pastries was well-known, as was how destructive he could be on a sugar high. It was often joked that, should another war with Jotunheim break out, Asgard could simply fill Thor up with sweet buns and leave him with the frost giants for a few hours. She followed the brothers onto the ship as Loki laughed._

 _"Yes, it is very funny." Thor grumbled good-naturedly. "But your expression when I prove I am the better flier will be funnier."_

 _"As funny as the tales I'll tell of how I had to save you from killing yourself with my exceptional skills at flying?" Loki taunted._

 _Azalea watched the brother's banter from her seat, where she was safely strapped down. She didn't doubt Thor's flying ability, but some caution never hurt anyone._

 _Instead of replying to Loki's taunt, Thor grabbed hold of the wheel of the ship and pulled it up. As they began to rise, Thor said, "See brother, I am perfectly capable of flying this ship."_

 _"You would call this flying?" Loki scoffed, "Being able to go up can hardly be called_ flying _."_

 _"Alright then, I shall show you just how skilled I am, but remember you asked for it." Thor replied confidently. His eyes did not meet his brother's._

 _Azalea had a bad feeling about this; but before she could voice her nervousness, they were zooming through the sky. The feeling of being in the sky calmed her nerves, and she laughed as the wind whipped her hair out of its neat braids. The sound of her laugh drew the brothers' eyes to her, and the trio grinned at each other._

 _Then everything went wrong._

 _A loud screeching noise echoed twice from the ship's controls, then fell silent. Simultaneously, the lights in the ship flickered off. The comforting rumble of the ship's engine died, and they began to fall._

 _Loki was yelling at Thor, asking what he did wrong, while Thor yelled back that he didn't do anything, it just happened but Azalea only heard the rush of the wind encompassing them as they fell. Fear began to choke her as the seconds passed, she gasped for air that was stolen from her lungs. They fell, and she could see the water rising to meet them, and she_ didn't want to die. _Instinctively, she reached for her magic, not knowing how, but hoping it would help. She pulled on it, praying it would come to her. Before, she had only ever coaxed it out, like a frightened kitten, but there was no time for that now. She pulled on it, and when it came to her she could have shouted in joy, but instead she threw it towards the two brothers, her best friends, and screamed for it to keep them safe._

 _Thor and Loki disappeared in a flash of golden light. A moment later, the unforgiving waters of Asgard swallowed her._

Holly gasped as the light let her go. Shaking violently at the memory of being surrounded by water, with no hope of getting out, she barely noticed that she was still surrounded by darkness. She curled up, wanting to escape the feeling of slowly being frozen by cold waters, but knowing she wouldn't be able to.

She was almost glad when the next light grabbed hold of her.

 _Azalea was cold. That was the first thing she noticed when she became aware of herself again. Why was she so cold? Exhaustion pushed down on her mind, tempting her to forget about the chill, but something didn't seem right. She couldn't remember doing anything that would make her this tired._

 _Focusing on the cold, she pushed herself into consciousness. Forcing her eyes open, she found herself in a dimly lit room, surrounded by glowing machines. It was silent, and her breathing seemed far too loud. Then she realized it wasn't her breathing._

 _A blanket covered lump sat sleeping on a chair next to her, and its head had fallen onto the edge of her bed. She squinted at it, but it was too dark for her to make out who it was. Her curiosity at where she was warred with her desire to let the thing sleep, and maybe continue sleeping herself. Curiosity won, and she wacked the thing's head with her leg._

 _"Ow!" It yelled, its head shooting up. Azalea recognized Loki now that the blanket had fallen away. Loki reached up to rub his head, but froze with his hand halfway there. With a shocked face his eyes searched out hers, and widened when they met. "You're awake." He breathed out._

 _A moment later Azalea found herself being crushed as Loki embraced her, "You're awake." He repeated into her shoulder, only now she was concerned because now it sounded more like a sob. Her worry heightened when he began shaking and gasping for air. She slipped her arms out of Loki's tight grip and, not knowing what else to do, pulled him closer. They stayed like that for a few moments, until Loki stopped shaking and his breathing calmed down._

 _She broke the silence, "What happened?"_

 _Loki inhaled sharply and released her, sitting up just far enough to see her face, "You don't remember?" he asked incredulously. She shook her head no, though now she felt like she should have been able to. His face darkened with pain, "You almost died." He told her, choking on the words. "And it was my fault."_

 _She blinked, not understanding. "What?"_

 _"I pushed Thor into taking us flying in one of the airships, and it crashed." He elaborated, his eyes not meeting hers. "I understand if you hate me, now._

 _Then she remembered, and shivered violently at the recalled memory of the cold water. Seeing her shiver, Loki quickly grabbed his blanket, which had fallen to the floor, and threw it over her._

 _"Thank you," she said softly, then snatched his hand as he tried to move away. "It wasn't your fault, Loki. You couldn't have known the ship would crash."_

 _She knew how insecure Loki was about their friendship. Ever since he had chosen to study magic, the other Asgardian's had shunned him. They were still polite and graceful to their prince, but all bar a few denied him their friendship. She wouldn't let him think he'd lost hers._

 _"How can you say that?" Loki asked incredulously, "You could have_ died. _"_

 _"But I didn't." she replied. "And even if I had I still would not have blamed you. I don't know who has convinced you that you are to blame for this, but I assure you that you are not."_

 _The room filled with silence, until Loki softly said, "All of Asgard would disagree with you."_

 _"Then they are all idiots!" She exclaimed, flailing one arm around. Her dramatics earned her a small smile from Loki, and she grinned. Those words, strung together so, filled her with anger but she pushed it away. She could rip off the heads of ignorant Asgardians later._

 _"You never cease to amaze me, Azalea." Loki said, distracting her from pleasant thoughts of bodiless Asgardians._

 _"Well, I_ am _amazing." She replied cockily, and Loki laughed._

 _"I should let the healers know you have woken, but before I go," Loki reached up to tap something on her head, "you'll be glad to know that we match now."_

 _Paling, her hands flew up to feel two small nubs atop her head. Her screech of horror accompanied Loki's laughter as he left._

Holly once again found herself floating in the darkness. The memory of the crushing water was still there, but now it was dulled by the happy scene she'd just watched. But the memories had exhausted her, and when sleep pushed her eyelids closed she gladly let it take her.

 **AN:** So I've started college, which is why it took this chapter so long to be uploaded. I'm hoping it won't be a regular thing, but I'm really busy now so I'll write when I can. I actually chose to finish this instead of doing homework. (I'm making great life decisions, trust me.) Anyway, I didn't have time to edit it much so if you, my dear readers, see anything wrong, please comment! And comment if you don't see anything wrong, because that's always nice. As always, I hope you like the chapter and look forward to your reviews! ^.^

 **AN #2:** So I only changed the very beginning of this chapter, hopefully it made the transition a bit smoother. And I fixed a couple typos I noticed, but nothing big has changed. I was going to cut this all out, but realized I love it too much, so I'll just find a way to make it work. It'll be easier now that I actually have time to think about something other than school. New chapters will be up soon, and you'll all be happy to know that I have several chapters finished post-Hogwarts, but, well, we gotta get there first. Did the added info at the beginning help at all? Let me know!


	7. Chapter 7: Friends, Feasts, and Fears

When Holly woke, the first thing she heard was her friends' petty bickering.

"Really Malfoy, overloading her bedside with sweets isn't going to make her wake up any sooner." Hermione's irritated voice drifted over her as she cracked open her eyes, squinting at the bright ceiling. Her head felt blurry, and she couldn't focus.

"She isn't _you_ Granger. Those of us who are normal actually _like_ sugary things. Besides, we all saw how quickly those chocolate frogs disappeared at Yuletide." Draco replied.

 _"_ For Merlin's sake, it's _Christmas!"_

"Yuletide!"

"Christmas!"

"If the two of you would stop arguing for a moment, you'd realize she's awake." Blaise's cool voice cut through their bickering.

The too-bright ceiling was blocked a moment later by three curious faces.

"Hey guys." She rasped, throat dry. "What happened? And where's Neville?"

"You don't remember?" Draco asked incredulously. "You nearly died! We all did!"

"Shush, Malfoy. Let her wake up properly before you scare her." Hermione scolded him, handing her a cup of water.

Holly eagerly gulped it down. "I'm awake," she said more clearly, "Seriously, what happened?"

"You had the brilliant idea to go after Quirrell in the middle of the night to protect a rock that may or may not have been the Philosopher's Stone, only to end up in a battle to the death with the Dark Lord himself." Draco deadpanned.

"Oh," Holly blinked, "Wait, what?!"

"What Malfoy is trying to say," Hermione continued, glaring at him, "is that you were right. Quirrell was after the Stone, not Snape, and you managed to stop him from stealing it somehow. We'd all been separated by then, so we're not sure what exactly happened. Madam Pomfrey told us you had suffered a head injury, and that your memory of the last few days might be fuzzy. But you should be able to remember within the week."

Holly frowned, uncomfortable with the idea of losing her memories, even if it was only temporary. She felt like she was missing something important, something that was just beyond her reach. "Where _is_ Neville?" She asked again, distracting herself from those thoughts. Her friends went silent, their faces grim.

"He-" Hermione bowed her head, tears in her eyes.

A jolt of fear ran through Holly, "What? What happened?"

"He's in St. Mungo's for spell damage," Blaise said when Draco stayed quiet. "We don't know exactly what happened, but he had burns all across his body."

"Oh, Merlin." Holly whispered. "Will he be alright?"

Blaise nodded, "The Healers told Madam Pomfrey that he'll be fine in a week or two."

"I-It was my fault." Hermione stammered, her cheeks wet. "I-I thought there was enough potion for both of us to go back, b-but there wasn't and N-Neville, h-he-" She cut off with a sob, and buried her face in her hands. The boys shifted away from her, looking uncomfortable.

"Hermione…" Holly trailed off, reaching out and pulling her friend into a hug. "It's not your fault." She mumbled, blinking away her own tears, "If it's anyone's fault its mine. I'm the one who dragged you down there."

"It's n-not your fault." Came Hermione's muffled reply.

Draco spoke up with a frown, arms crossed, "Technically, it's the fault of the old geezer who decided to keep that damn stone here in the first place."

Hermione sat up, red-eyed glare quickly focusing on Draco. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore had his reasons for keeping it here, Malfoy." She said, voice rough from crying.

"And I'm sure those reasons completely justified putting an entire school of children in danger." Draco shot back.

Holly met Blaise's gaze over the now-arguing duo and rolled her eyes. Blaise smirked back, amused. If there was one thing that always managed to get Hermione out of a funk, it was a good argument. And if there was one thing Draco was good at, it was arguing with Hermione. Honestly, Holly wondered if Draco was doing it on purpose at this point.

Madam Pomfrey chose that moment to burst into the hospital wing, two people trailing behind her. One was her Head of House, Severus Snape. The other was the topic of their argument, Professor Dumbledore. Draco and Hermione's argument fizzled out instantly, leaving their group in silence as Pomfrey led them to her bedside before busying herself with her duties.

Snape raised a brow at them. "I hope you four aren't planning on getting into any more trouble. As it stands, you three will already be serving detention with me for the rest of the year." He drawled, giving pointed looks to the three Slytherins, who groaned simultaneously. "And for you, Miss Granger, I'm sure a similar punishment is awaiting you with your Head of House."

"Now, now, Severus, no need to make it sound so terrible. It's only a few days after all." Dumbledore interrupted with a light-hearted chuckle. He smiled kindly at the four of them, blue eyes twinkling, "However, we do need to speak to Miss Potter, if you don't mind. And it is a wonderful day outside. It would be a shame for three young students like yourselves to miss out."

"Of course, Professor!" Hermione exclaimed, reaching down to pick up her schoolbag. Draco and Blaise were more hesitant, and didn't move until Snape nodded for them to go. Reluctantly, the trio left, calling out goodbyes and promises to be back soon. Then they were gone, and Holly was left alone with the two professors.

Dumbledore spoke first, "Good morning, Holly. How are you feeling?" he asked quietly.

"Hello, Professors. Physically, I feel fine, Headmaster." Holly replied, curt but not impolite. She had met the Headmaster once before, at the beginning of the year. He'd called her to his office to question why she wasn't living with her relatives. She had replied by asking why he, the Head of the school, cared about the housing of one student. They had gone back and forth for a short while, and at the end of that meeting, neither had gotten the answers they were looking for. Though, Holly did learn that the Headmaster had a borderline unhealthy obsession with mismatching socks and sweets. He'd reminded her of some of the social workers she met before being placed with the Freeman's, the ones who wanted to help but always believed that their way was the best way to do so. It made her wary of the Headmaster and his good intentions.

"Ah," he replied with a weary sigh, "Yes, Madam Pomfrey informed me of your memory loss." He looked over her sadly, "Part of me hopes you never remember the details of that night. However, those details are crucial to our understanding of what occurred."

Dread began to wrap itself around her at the Headmaster's words. "Couldn't you find out what happened from my friends? They were there too." Holly asked, but her mind was occupied with another question. That feeling of missing something important had come back. What had she forgotten?

"We did question them; but unfortunately, they were only there for part of it. You and your friends had gotten separated by the time you reached Voldemort." Came Dumbledore's reply. "What happened between the two of you remains only in your mind. Only you know of the most significant events of that night, such as how the Philosopher's Stone was destroyed." Holly's eyes widened at that bit of information, and Dumbledore continued. "That is why I've brought your Head of House along. He is a master of mind magic, even more so than myself. He will use it to help you regain your memories a bit faster."

"Mind magic?" Holly questioned, confused, "But isn't that illegal to use on minors?"

Dumbledore's brow went up, and Professor Snape finally spoke, a small smirk on his face, "I'm glad to see that your housemates have been educating you on our laws, Miss Potter. Ordinarily, yes, it would be illegal. But the magic you are thinking of is Legilimency and Occlumency; both invasive forms of mind magic. There is a less invasive, and less well-known, form of mind magic that is often used in advanced potions. It can be found in any potion that alters a person's state of mind, such as love potions. It is non-invasive in the sense that it is a passive presence in your mind, rather than an active one." Holly nodded along, showing that she understood. "The potion I will be giving you will help your mind pull its memories back together at a faster rate." With a flourish, Snape pulled out a small vial filled with a dark blue liquid. He uncapped it, and it glimmered in the light as he handed it to her.

"But won't my memories come back soon on their own?" Holly asked as she took it, holding it gently so it didn't spill. "This seems a bit… excessive."

"It's likely that, if left on their own, your memories won't return before the end of the year." Dumbledore answered her, "And we must know what happened as soon as possible, so we can be sure of your health and safety before sending you home, among other things. We've no way to know which spells were cast that night, or what led to Voldemort's defeat. And with him as an opponent, being unaware of these things can be very harmful."

Holly nodded, seeing the logic. For all she knew, a slow-acting curse that killed her organs one by one could've been put on her. Steeling herself, she quickly swallowed the potion, grimacing at the taste of rotten blueberries. Handing the vial back to Snape, she asked, "How long does it take for it to take effect, Professor?"

"No more than 24 hours." Snape replied, "And that is in cases of extreme damage. You should regain your memories sometime tonight."

"We'll leave you to rest now, Holly." Dumbledore said, "I'm afraid any other questions you may have should wait until we visit again tomorrow. I'm sure you'll have plenty more by then." Again, Holly saw sadness settle over the Headmaster's features.

Unease settled comfortably in her gut as she watched them leave, Snape nodding his goodbye before following the Headmaster out the door. Then she was alone.

A few hours later, Hermione and Blaise returned with a few books for her to read. They spoke for a while, but before long they had to head to the Great Hall for dinner. Holly ate hers in the company of Madam Pomfrey, who, at Holly's request, regaled her with tales of the weirdest things she'd seen in her time at Hogwarts. They were interrupted by a third year being carried in by his friends, blood dribbling from his lips as the occasional bat escaped his mouth. Madame Pomfrey rushed off, muttering about overdone bat-bogey hexes, and Holly was left with her books. She tried to read, she really did, but Hermione seemed to have chosen the driest books available, and before long she had slipped off into sleep.

Only to wake with a scream lodged in her throat later that night. She sprang from her bed, looking around wildly as her mind replayed Voldemort's wraith running at her, _through_ her. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness slowly, and she started to calm, seeing only the empty Hospital Wing around her. She gulped in a breath, forcing her lungs to work past the terror, and slowly sat back on the bed.

But it wasn't over.

More memories crashed through her head, ones that didn't belong, of a young girl who wasn't her but _was_ at the same time. Her breath was stolen again by the phantom feeling of drowning, and she collapsed against the pillows, head spinning. She laid there, unable to do anything as the scenes replayed, over and over, in her mind's eye.

Finally, _finally,_ the memories settled and she could breathe again. For a long moment, she simply stared at the ceiling and focused on breathing; one breath in, one breath out, repeat, until her mind began to work again. _Whose memories are those?_ She wondered, but that thought was quickly eclipsed by another. _I killed someone._ She thought, disbelief settling into her bones. _Not just someone, I killed Professor Quirrell._ Her eyes began to water as the reality of her actions sank in, the sharp pain of guilt running through her. She pressed a hand to her mouth as the first sob escaped, and she curled up as her frame shook with muffled cries.

Sleep escaped her for the rest of the night, and for many nights after.

-line break-

When Professor Dumbledore returned early the next morning, it was to the sight of an unusually pale young girl with bloodshot eyes. He gently cleared his throat to announce his presence, but she ignored him, instead staring stiffly at the ceiling above her.

"Do not blame yourself, Holly." Professor Dumbledore spoke solemnly, moving to stand at the foot of her bed. "It was not your fault."

She closed her eyes at the words, unable to face the light. "It was my magic," Holly croaked, throat raw from crying. "My magic, my will. My fault." The last two words were whispered; a confession, an acknowledgment, and Holly sagged against the bed. Her head turned to the side, weary green eyes opening to meet bright blue. "My fault." She repeated, the image of a crushed skull, blood covering her feet, flickering in her mind's eye.

"No, Holly. You are still a child." Holly almost snorted. She didn't feel like a child. "A child who cannot fully control her magic. What happened was self-defense; your magic acted for you when you could not. It was not your fault." Dumbledore said again, a sliver of steel in his voice.

"My magic killed my professor, Professor." Holly stated bluntly, face twisting in pain. "And my magic is a part of me." The truth of the statement rang through her as she remembered another girl, one with a heart of gold and pathetic excuses of horns to match, who had used her will to guide her magic the same way she had. That girl had saved lives. Holly had destroyed one. She wanted to be that girl. "I won't deny this responsibility." A flicker of fire came to life inside her, giving meaning to her words. She would carry this with her always, this knowledge that she had knowingly taken another's life. She would do her best to make up for it as well.

A sad fondness flickered in her Headmaster's eyes. He sighed, and smiled slightly, "You remind me so much of myself, dear Holly. It's truly remarkable, given I was much older than you when I faced my own hardships."

They descended into silence, and Holly was grateful. It gave her time to sort her thoughts and feelings, and carefully lock them away. When she felt ready, she started the story. "Everything happened by accident, really. Over the last year, my friends and I noticed a strange tension between Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell. It was a bit of a game for us, as we tried to figure out what it was. But then Halloween happened. When Neville and I saved Hermione from that troll, we saw Professor Quirrell heading to the third floor, and Professor Snape following him. Later Draco told us about Professor Snape's injury, and how it looked like something had taken a bite out of his leg. A few weeks later Neville got lost and ended up on the third-floor corridor, and he told us about the three headed dog. We put two and two together, and our new game became trying to figure out object was so important that Professor Snape would put its safety above the safety of his Slytherins. We only figured out it was the Philosopher's Stone a few weeks ago. I'm the only one who thought Professor Quirrell was trying to steal it, and only after I heard him talking to himself in his classroom." She paused; shuddering at the realization that it was actually Voldemort that Quirrell had been talking to. "When we heard you'd left the castle, I convinced my friends to go with me to check on the Stone, and we'd tell Professor McGonagall if we saw anything suspicious. But by the time we got there it was obvious someone had already broken in, so we went down. As you know, we got as far as the chess board before being separated. Draco and Blaise stayed behind, and then Hermione, Neville and I got separated at the potions."

She took a deep breath, bracing herself for the next part. Her voice was monotone as she recited what happened. "When I went into the chamber, I saw Professor Quirrell in front of a mirror. He was muttering to himself, and didn't notice me until a voice pointed me out to him. He forced me in front of the mirror, and another version of me put a stone in my pocket. When I told Professor Quirrell I only saw myself, he threw me away, until that voice told him I had the Stone. Then Professor Quirrell took off his turban and showed me Voldemort, who tried to convince me to join him. When I refused we fought, and he'd been about to kill me when my magic threw him into the mirror. You saw what happened after that."

"And what of the Stone, Holly? Do you remember what happened to it?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry Professor. It must have been destroyed by one of the spells Professor Quirrell cast. It happened too fast for me to be sure when it happened."

He nodded solemnly, "I see. Thank you, Holly. I know that must have been painful for you to relive." He rose from his seat, "I'm sure Madam Pomfrey is waiting to check on you, so I'll take my leave. But before I go, is there anything you'd like to ask me? I'm sure you have at least a few questions."

Holly thought for a moment. Most of her questions had been answered by her memories, and the few others she had she knew Dumbledore wouldn't answer. "Not at the moment, Professor." He nodded and had turned to leave when she called out, "Actually," she started uncertainly, remembering the one question that had been bothering her for years. "What does it mean when you remember things? Things you never did?"

Dumbledore froze, and turned back to her. "That would depend on what you remember." He replied slowly.

Holly thought of the dreams, "Things like learning spells you've never learned before, and casting them on others."

Dumbledore seemed to pale, but he recovered quickly, and smiled. But it was fake. "Then you must have a very vivid imagination, Miss Potter. Such things have very little significance in our world. Now if you'd excuse me, I hope you enjoy the rest of the school year. I'm sure Madam Pomfrey would be willing to release you for the Feast tomorrow night, if you behave."

Holly's brow furrowed at his change in behavior, but she smiled back, just as fake. "I don't think that will be a problem, Professor."

After Dumbledore left, Madam Pomfrey rushed in to check her over before moving on to her other patients, leaving Holly alone to think. She focused on Dumbledore's odd reaction to her question in an effort to avoid thinking about more unpleasant things. And so her day passed in phases of thinking, fitful sleeping, and reading, with her friends trickling in and out throughout the day. The night was spent with little sleep, and the next morning Holly almost shouted for joy when Madam Pomfrey said she could leave. It was hard to find things to distract herself with in the cold, white room.

As she was leaving, Blaise slipped into the room and she grinned as she walked towards him. "I've finally been released!" She announced happily, a bounce in her step.

"About time," Blaise replied, lips tugging upwards, "We were starting to think you'd go into hibernation, with how often you were sleeping in here."

Holly's grin faded at the reminder of the nightmares, but she forced it back. "Well there's not much else to do in here, which you'd know if you weren't so perfect in class all the time." It was a running joke in their group. Everyone in their year had been to the infirmary at least once, from blowing up a potion or getting attacked by a suit of armor, _except_ Blaise. "You _have_ to teach me your powers of indestructability."

Blaise huffed in amusement, shaking his head, and they descended into a comfortable silence as they left the infirmary. They stayed that way as they headed towards the dungeons and passed through the Great Hall, which was starting to fill with students heading for an early lunch.

"Hey Holly!" A voice called out, and she spun around, recognizing Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff in their year. "I'm glad to see you're out of the Hospital Wing!" He continued.

"Thanks Smith." She called back, confused. Zacharias disappeared into the crowd, satisfied. Turning to Blaise she asked, "What was that about?"

Blaise grimaced, "The whole school knows about the Stone and how we tried to protect it. They don't know the details, but some have decided we're not as bad as they thought we were."

She snorted, "We never were. It was just their own stupid prejudice making them think that." She shook her head, "I can't believe this. We're going to have to deal with people trying to suck up to us now, aren't we? As if that will erase a year of slurs and hexes."

Blaise nodded, frowning. "Draco and I have had to deal with a few of them already, and I'm sure Hermione has too."

She scowled, stomping angrily down the steps to the dungeons. If those small minded bigots thought some nice words were going to make her forget the way they had treated her, then they were even dumber than she'd thought. "At least we only have to deal with them for tonight, and the train ride home. Maybe the summer break will make them forget about it."

"Doubtful." Blaise replied as they entered the common room.

Holly sighed, "Let me hope, will you? Besides that reminds me, I still have to pack my trunk." She shuddered at the thought. Over the year she'd managed to amass a large collection of magical junk to bring home, and she had no idea how she would get it all to fit. She turned to Blaise, "Wanna help?"

"I am not packing your room for you." He replied firmly. At her crestfallen face, he added, "But I'll keep you company while you suffer."

"Thanks." She drawled sarcastically. "You're such a _great_ friend."

"I know."

They both laughed, and so Holly spent the day locked in her room, trying to fit as much stuff as she could into her trunk, which, with the excessive use of shrinking charms, was a surprisingly large amount. By the time she was finished it was almost time for the Feast. Draco joined them on their way to the Great Hall, where the three of them ran into Hermione.

"Holly!" Hermione called, quickly wrapping her up in a hug. "Madame Pomfrey told me you'd been released, but I couldn't find you anywhere!"

"Sorry Hermione," Holly mumbled, wrapping her arms around her friend in return. "I only just finished packing my trunk."

Hermione gave her a squeeze before letting go. "You're forgiven. I was hoping to steal you away from your dorm for a few hours, but I still have the train ride tomorrow." She grinned, "And you can visit whenever you want over the summer."

"Don't say that, or else I'll show up in the middle of the night with PJ's and chocolate." She joked. Holly was surprised to learn that Hermione lived an hour's drive away, and they planned to meet up numerous times over the summer.

"I wouldn't mind. But no chocolate, my parents would freak out."

Three sets of Slytherin eyes rolled at the reminder of Hermione's parents' weird aversion to all things good in life.

"So are we going to sit or not?" Draco asked, reminding everyone that the Feast was about to start. The Great Hall had filled with students while they were talking.

At this realization, they quickly headed inside, Hermione breaking off from the group to sit at the Ravenclaw table. The Feast went by quickly. Dumbledore announced Quirrell's death as an unfortunate accident, though this didn't stop people from shooting glances at her. Slytherin won the House Cup, with Gryffindor in a close second. They all ate, and returned to their dormitories. Most of the students stayed up to chat, but Holly quickly went to bed, telling her friends it was on Madame Pomfrey's orders. She was exhausted from the lack of sleep the two previous nights.

The next day they all met up on the train and the four of them shared a compartment. Hermione told them that Neville was healing quickly, and would be released in a few days. They were all happy to hear that, though Draco pretended not to be. Blaise announced his plans to visit Neville over break, so they could obsess over dangerous, and probably poisonous, plants together. When the train pulled into King's Cross, Holly found herself sad to be leaving her new friends, though she was excited to see the Freeman's again. They all promised to write, with Hermione giving Holly her phone number, and they went their separate ways, happy with their lives and eager for the next year.

They had no idea how soon that would change.

 **Author's Note:** Hey guys! Sorry this took so long to update, but I've been really busy. I tried to show the dynamics of their friendships here a bit, to make up for the time skip. But I already said I wouldn't be writing out the whole year, I just don't have time to write details like what their class schedules are. But if there are any scenes I left out that you guys wanna see, let me know and I'll write a snippet of it and post it with a later chapter if I have the time. There are some changes I want to make to the story, so it may seem like we're just skipping to the big stuff in HP, but if I wasn't changing anything I would've just skipped Hogwarts altogether. But I've rambled on long enough. I hope you enjoy the new chapter, and don't forget to let me know what you think! I love reading your comments, ya'll help me think of things I wouldn't have otherwise. Til next time! ^.^


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